Crystal Blizzard
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: An Eye of the Storm Christmas story. Anakin and Luke spend Christmas with members of the fan club in Salt Lake... only to encounter an old foe and a plot against the city.
1. Christmas Invitation

**Crystal Blizzard**

**An "Eye of the Storm" story**

**Kenya Starflight**

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I'm fond of author's notes before stories, if you haven't already noticed. This story is a sort of interlude between "Eye of the Storm" and "The Armor of Vader," taking place during the Christmas between the two stories (the original tales were spaced a year apart)._

_If you haven't yet read "Eye," please stop here and find and read it; otherwise you probably won't know what's going on. Even if you have read the story, it won't hurt to re-read it and refresh your memory._

_It isn't necessary to read "Armor of Vader" to understand "Crystal Blizzard," but there are one or two elements in this story that relate to "Armor."_

_And finally, yes, I am a Mormon. I harbor no ill feelings toward my religion or anyone else's, though. The views expressed in this fic are the views of the characters only._

**Chapter 1 – Christmas Invitation**

"Frodo!"

"Harry!"

"Frodo!"

"Harry!"

"Frodo!"

"Harry!"

"Daddy, make them stop!" Emma cried, hands over her ears.

"I don't care if they're not my kids," muttered Cody. "I'm gonna kill 'em if they don't can it!"

"They've been at this for forty-five minutes," Liberty replied. "They're bound to run out of hot air soon."

But neither Gideon nor Trapper showed any signs of stopping their argument, which consisted solely of shouting those two names at each other like broken holorecordings.

Anakin Skywalker, formerly known as Darth Vader, sighed deeply. How in the galaxy had he managed to get himself into this mess anyhow?

It had all started a few days after the American holiday of Thanksgiving, when Brigham had taken his motorcycle into Anakin's auto shop for a winter tune-up. While Jason and Patrick tended to the bike and Anakin finished writing up a price quote, Brigham took a few minutes to make small talk.

"So, any plans for the Christmas holidays, anyone?"

Anakin had heard about the Earth tradition of Christmas, of course. Everyone in the Vader's Elite fan club had explained the holiday to him – or tried to. The entire season was rather complex, seeing as everyone had conflicting views of it.

"It's when Santa Claus comes!" Rachel had happily informed him. Luke had gladly granted her a few weeks from her Jedi training to spend with her parents over the holidays, and she was looking forward eagerly to a visit from that mystical old man from Earth's mythology, who supposedly left gifts for "good" children on Christmas Eve.

"It's a season of love," Emily had explained. "Of rekindling the eternal dream of man to someday finally establish peace on our world. And it's a time to renew bonds with one's family and loved ones." This last Emily said with a sort of wistful air; her own family had disowned her years ago when she'd "come out of the closet," and her parents still hadn't forgiven her, though at least her brothers and sisters were speaking to her again.

"It's a Christian thing," Liz had said dismissively. Due to her religion, she celebrated Hanukkah rather than Christmas and right now was no doubt educating her husband, Boba Fett, on the particulars of the Festival of Lights.

"It's said to be the birthday of Jesus Christ," Amethyst had told him. "He established Christianity, one of the major religions on our planet, and he was so influential on our world that we measure time from the year of his birth."

But the Elite couldn't even agree on exactly how influential Christ was, and their explanations of exactly who he was differed as much as their views on the holiday celebrating his birth. Brigham claimed he was the Savior of the world who died for everyone's sins. Jason insisted that he was just another religious leader who'd been murdered for his teachings. Zack theorized that he was a Jedi who'd come to Earth to teach people about the Force in a format they could understand (though seeing as Zack also contended that the "UFO crash" at Roswell had been a downed Republic ship and the Taliban had been in cahoots with the Empire, Anakin took this latest theory with a liberal dose of salt). Mike, when questioned, only said "Don't ask me; I'm still trying to figure out 'The Da Vinci Code.'"

It was Patrick who'd at last given the answer that Anakin liked the most. He'd thought on the question a long moment, then spoken with his usual frugality of words.

"He's our world's Chosen One. He was born of a virgin mother and taught mankind to love one another and turn away hate. Regardless of whether he's a Son of God, a prophet, or a simple teacher of men, he left behind truths that still resonate today."

So when Brigham asked about his plans for the holiday, the question didn't precipitate an enormous philosophical and theological debate as it might have with another native of the galaxy beyond Earth.

"Nothing much," Jason replied. "Gonna fly to Cleveland for our family bash, then probably hang out at home and watch Christmas movies."

Brigham nodded. "What about you, Anakin?"

He gave a little shrug. "I'm banished to Earth. I can't exactly visit my family. Thus, I'll most likely be spending the holidays at my apartment." Not exactly a cheerful prospect, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

"Excellent!" Brigham exclaimed to Anakin's utter surprise. "You can come with me! My parents own this huge house in Salt Lake City, and every year they invite the whole family for Christmas – my grandparents, my brothers and sisters, and their spouses and kids. They told me I could invite whoever I like to spend the holidays, since I don't have a family of my own to bring. I usually invite anyone in the Elite who wants to come over, and you're more than welcome to join us."

"That would be wonderful," Anakin replied, smiling beneath his mask. He considered the Elite an extension of his family; what better way to spend the holidays than with them?

So when December 20th dawned, gray and snowy, Anakin was standing on a street corner near the Leapfrog Diner in Star City, a duffel at his feet and a heavy cloak wrapped around his body as a backup in case his temperature control systems became overworked in the cold. Austin, Trapper, and Liberty huddled nearby, steam pluming from their mouths. Brigham, meanwhile, was talking on his cell phone with whoever was going to be driving them to Salt Lake, presumably his brother.

Cody emerged from the Leapfrog with hot chocolate for everybody. "So when's your brother going to get here?" he asked, handing a cup to Brigham.

"He got held up by a car wreck on the freeway," Brigham replied, cupping his hands around the Styrofoam cup. "But he should be here in a few minutes."

"Does he have a family?" asked Austin.

"Yeah, he's married and has 4.5 kids."

"How do you have 4.5 kids?" demanded Liberty.

"The last one's only six months along," Brigham explained. "So is this everyone who's coming?"

"Zack was gonna come, but his mom had a fit," Cody explained. "Wanted him to spend Christmas with the family instead of a bunch of weirdo geeks."

"The Churches are in Oregon with family," Austin added. "I think everyone else has family celebrations they'd rather attend. Not that we're going to force them to come with us, of course. We're friends, but we can't do everything together."

At that moment a large rental bus arrived, pulling up to the corner. Four small faces pressed against the windows, greeting them with the most grotesque expressions they were capable of.

"Ah, the welcoming committee," Anakin noted with a chuckle. "Makes me wish I had grandchildren."

Brigham was the first to board, hugging his brother and sister-in-law before introducing the others.

"Guys, this is my older brother Hyrum Pratt," he told them. "This is his wife Lydia, and their children are Gideon – he's your age, Trapper – Christopher, who's six; Emma, she'll be five on New Year's Day; and Wendy's two years old today."

Hyrum's smile was bright and easy as he shook Anakin's hand. If he hadn't already known he was Brigham's brother, he probably could have guessed easily enough; the family resemblance was striking. Lydia was a tall woman, slender excepting the swell of her gravid belly, who had a gentle demeanor about her.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Anakin informed them.

"Are you really Darth Vader?" gushed Christopher.

He laughed. "Not anymore. My name is Anakin."

"Can I have your autograph?" Christopher begged.

The bus lurched away as the kids clamored over Anakin's presence, bombarding him with questions. Could he really use the Force? Was it like magic? Did he like it here on Earth? How had he gotten here? Where was his lightsaber? What was it like facing the Emperor? Did they have Christmas in outer space? Did he know any Christmas songs?

"Hey Mom, he doesn't know any Christmas songs!" exclaimed Emma.

"Then teach him a few," Lydia suggested.

"Sing 'Fwosty!'" squealed Wendy.

"Frosty it is," declared Gideon. "'Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul…'"

Trapper enthusiastically joined in as the Pratt kids engaged in a carol marathon, belting out every Christmas song known to man at least three times apiece at the top of their lungs. The adults chimed in from time to time with a quieter carol such as "Silent Night" or "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," but once the final note had faded the kids insisted on turning back to their rowdy favorites – "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and "I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas."

Somewhere between "Feliz Navidad" and "Angels We Have Heard On High," Hyrum managed to get a few words in edgewise.

"You folks wouldn't happen to be interested in investigating our church, would you?"

Anakin had been anticipating this question. When he, Luke, and Fett had first come to Earth, the first thing Brigham had done after overcoming his shock had been to give them the entire spiel on his religion. Though he respected Brigham's beliefs, he just wasn't interested, and he knew the others would be no more receptive to it. Cody was a confirmed Catholic, Liberty preferred her New Age lifestyle to organized religion, and Austin was an agnostic who was infamous in their neighborhood for turning on the lawn sprinklers on missionary and Jehovah's Witness alike.

"Not at this time, thanks," Liberty replied politely.

"All right," Hyrum replied. "But I'll warn you ahead of time that we have some rules at our parent's house. No swearing, no drinking or smoking, and if you want to get romantic, get a hotel room."

"Fine by us," Austin replied. "As long as your family respects our decision to not be proselyted at every opportunity."

"I'll be sure to let them know."

Much later, after yet another argument over exactly who the Harold referred to in "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" was, the kids had to concede that they were out of Christmas songs.

"So," Trapper tried, "any of you like fantasy books?"

That was the question that had started the name fight. For Gideon turned out to be as big a fan of sci-fi and fantasy as Trapper was, and the two of them promptly began discussing the merits of J.R. Tolkein and J.K. Rowling – and which of them had turned out a better hero. At first the Frodo Baggins vs. Harry Potter debate had been halfway civil ("After all, Frodo has the One Ring; Harry's got a stick that shoots sparks," Gideon had contended), but as time went by it became more and more heated ("How's Frodo gonna attack Harry, jump up and punch him in the knee?" exclaimed Trapper) until it devolved into a simple yelling of names, as if by outshouting the other one of them could win the argument.

"Frodo!" insisted Gideon.

"Harry!" defended Trapper.

"Trapper, isn't there a better way to express your opinions?" demanded Austin.

"Dad, I have a position to defend here!" Trapper protested.

"FrodoFrodoFrodoFrodoFrodoFrodoFrodo!" Gideon retorted, as if he could win the battle through repetition.

"Luke Skywalker's the best hero, so shut up the two of you," growled Cody, clamping on his headphones to drown out the noise.

"Harry!"

"Frodo!"

"Harry!"

"Frodo!"

"I KNOW A BOY WHO'S GOING TO BE WALKING TO SALT LAKE IF I HEAR THE NAME 'FRODO' ONE MORE TIME!" bellowed Hyrum.

Dead silence. Then Trapper's smug whisper of "Harry."

"Shut up," grumbled Gideon.

"Um, Hyrum?" said Brigham. "You just passed the Salt Lake turnoff."

"I know."

"Any particular reason?"

"Yeah, Mom wants us to make a detour through Boise to pick up Opal."

"Opal? I didn't think she wanted to come."

"Well, you know how Grandma can be pretty persuasive."

"Who's Opal?" asked Austin.

"Opal Patten, our mother's brother's daughter," explained Hyrum. "She lives in Boise. Hasn't had contact with most of the family for awhile."

"Why not?" asked Anakin.

"It's kind of hard to explain," Brigham replied. "To make a long story short, since I'm a single geek with mostly non-Mormon friends, I was the black sheep of the family for a long time. But three years ago Opal took that honor from me."

"What do you mean?" Anakin pressed.

Brigham sighed. "The sad thing about our church is that we kind of get stuck on ourselves for being 'the only true church.' A lot of Mormons tend to ignore those not of our faith, and anyone who leaves the church by choice or by excommunication is often ostracized horribly. Opal was engaged to a guy she loved very much, and two weeks before their wedding he was killed in a forest fire. Well, tragedy can draw some people closer to their God, or it can drive them away, and in Opal's case the latter was true. After the funeral she asked to have her name removed from the records of the church, effectively leaving the faith."

"And the family disowned her over that?" asked Liberty, stunned. "That's awful."

"Brigham keeps in touch with her," Hyrum defended. "He's a decent guy. But this'll be the first time in three years Opal's attended a family gathering, so everyone be gentle with her."

After a few more minutes, Gideon turned to Trapper. "So who's the better writer, C.S. Lewis or Mercedes Lackey?"

_Not this again, _thought Anakin resignedly.

-------

The bus trundled past, splashing waves of ugly blackish-brown slush onto the sidewalk. No one paid it much mind.

Except a pair of yellow eyes watching from a window in a Moxie Java restaurant.

_Skipping town, are you, Vader? _the bearer of those eyes thought, sipping at his mocha. _Where are you off to, anyhow? Not a spaceport, even you wouldn't dare break the terms of your exile. But where are you going?_

He turned his attention to the woman who'd just entered and was currently mulling over a selection of biscotti and scones. Standing, he strode over to her and tapped her shoulder.

"Yeah, what?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Don't I know you?" he asked.

She stared at him, puzzled. His hooded jacket obscured his face, but even if she'd seen his features he doubted she'd recognize him.

"Dunno," she replied. "Who are you?"

"I met you at Nova-Con last year," he lied. "I was the one in the Darth Maul costume, remember?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, you! You're a wicked Podracer player." She shook his gloved hand. "I'm Amethyst, remember me?"

"I couldn't forget that face," he replied. "Hey, I just saw another member of your group go by a little bit ago – the Mormon boy, the one who beat the stuffing out of Ezekiel this summer."

"Brigham? I thought he left today."

"Left?"

"Yeah, he was taking a bunch of friends and relatives down to Salt Lake to visit his parents over Christmas." She shrugged. "Must've gotten held up."

"I see." He pretended to check his watch. "Uh-oh, I'm cutting it short. Sorry I can't chat, but I'm late as it is."

"See ya round," she told him.

He smiled as he retrieved his coffee and left the building. Earth people were so gullible. He'd thought Amethyst to be among the cleverer members of that Vader's Elite that was now so famous in this city, but she had proven easy prey.

So Vader was traveling to Utah with Brigham. Perfect. He had connections there. It would be a simple matter to have his revenge.

_I'm not dead, Vader. You think you've destroyed me, but I live. And you will finally pay for destroying everything I was, everything I valued._

Time to book a flight to Salt Lake City. Vader's head on a platter was going to be the perfect Christmas present this year.


	2. The Pratt Family

**Chapter 2 – The Pratt Family**

Hyrum had no intention of wasting time on this trip, so stops were kept to a minimum. At rest areas or gas stations, everyone rushed to the restrooms with the shouted warning of "If you're not back on the bus in fifteen minutes, you get left!" Meals were always something take-out, which ended up in burger wrappers and soda cups gathering like drifts of snow on the floor of the bus. Spending the night somewhere was out of the question – everyone was expected to sleep in their seats while Brigham took over the wheel for his brother.

He did, however, relent in one matter. When Liberty contracted a nasty bout of food poisoning from the hole-in-the-wall Chinese place they'd lunched at, he granted everyone an hour to stretch their legs at a rest area while she recovered and he cleaned up the mess on the bus. Not that anyone felt like doing much running around in six inches of swiftly building snow, though the kids promptly got in a snowball fight with Cody and Austin.

Anakin and Brigham, meanwhile, found themselves engaged in an unexpected but amusing exploration of the men's room at the facility.

"It's not a good sign to hear the guy in the stall next to you laughing uncontrollably," Brigham said concernedly. "Especially when said guy's a cyborg."

"For a Mormon, you have an unbelievably sick mind," Anakin replied. "I'm laughing at the graffiti on the stall walls, for your information."

"Yeah, that's pretty funny stuff," Brigham conceded.

Anakin browsed the messages collected over the years – simple notes to announce one's existence ("Joe and Sheldon were here on way to Nova-Con 6/4/02"), declarations of love ("Bob loves Brandy" types were most common, though "Meet me here on 5/23 at noon for a good time" was also popular), crude insults ("If you can read this, bite me"), amateur poetry ("Here I sit – broken-hearted – tried to quit – but can't get started"), and oddly philosophical quotes ("A clear conscious is a sign of a bad memory") peppered the walls. Sooner or later some city worker would obliterate this unofficial record of the history of this place with a wipe of a paintbrush, but for now Anakin merely enjoyed it.

Most amusing were the little arguments that people started through their scrawls, arguments that were carried on by people the original writers would never meet:

"If you love your gal – show some class – don't put her name – where you wipe your (deleted)."

"Who made you king of the bathrooms?"

"Everyone's a king here. This IS the throne room."

"The Imperial throne room, home of Emperor Poop-atine."

"Who was de-throned with a royal flush."

"If you ask me, this conversation's gone down the toilet."

"AND DID WE ASK YOU?"

With a smile Anakin added a note of his own – "Anakin Skywalker passed through this stall on his way to Salt Lake City Christmas of 2004. He strongly suggests that everyone involved in this 'throne room' debate lay down their pens and get a life."

The next day, after a long and uncomfortable night of attempting to sleep on a hard bus seat, they reached the Idaho capitol. Brigham's cousin was collected from a street corner in downtown Boise with all the fanfare of a school bus driver picking up a student from a bus stop. She picked up her suitcase and stepped into the vehicle, gaze fixed on her feet.

"Merry Christmas, Opal," Brigham told her, taking her suitcase in one hand and hugging her with his free arm. "Glad you could make it."

Petite and mousy, with hair, eyes, and complexion as pale as the stone whose name she bore, Opal seemed to have a distinct phobia of making eye contact with anyone. She murmured a thank-you to Brigham and promptly slunk to the back of the bus, sitting just behind Gideon and Trapper and opening a laptop computer as a signal that she was not about to make small talk.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hyrum?" Brigham asked his brother in a low voice.

"Of course," Hyrum replied. "Opal needs to have contact with the family. You've said that yourself."

"But you know how shy she is," Brigham retorted. "She's likely to have a panic attack the minute she gets in the house."

"Oh calm down. This is Christmas. How bad can it be?"

"Daddy!" screamed Emma. "Gideon's saying there's no such thing as Santa Claus!"

"Well, tell Gideon that he's going to get a lump of coal in his stocking if he keeps teasing you," Hyrum retorted.

"I'm just stating a fact, Dad," Gideon replied. "There's no Santa, and I'm not gonna pretend there is, either."

"Gideon, don't be mean," Lydia chided. "Tell Emma you're sorry."

"For what? Telling her the truth? Ninth commandment, 'thou shalt not bear false witness.'"

"Gideon, don't smart-mouth your mother!" Hyrum ordered.

"I'm just telling it like it is!" he defended.

"Besides, he's got a point," Trapper added.

"Trapper, please don't get involved," ordered Austin.

"Santa's too real!" Christopher shouted.

"Is not!" Gideon retorted.

Cody rubbed his temples. "It's gonna be a long holiday."

----------

Luke strolled between the lighted trees of Temple Square in Salt Lake City, keeping his senses open. He'd expected to feel like an interloper on the grounds of this religious edifice, but to his surprise he felt welcomed by both the atmosphere and the people. And though the night was bitterly cold and snow was drifting steadily down, the aura of the Christmas season seemed to warm him.

_Reminds me of Life Day celebrations back home,_ he thought.

A horse-drawn sleigh slid past, carrying a load of camera-toting tourists past the meticulously decorated Square. One of them recognized him and began to say something to his companion, but Luke quickly dipped into his short-term memories and slightly altered that thought from _it's Luke Skywalker! _to _what's that idiot doing walking in this weather? _He didn't want to attract more attention than he had to on this mission.

He hitched his scarf up higher to cover his nose and mouth and walked on. This had been the first time the planet of Earth had requested the Republic's intervention in any matter. Apparently the crime level in this area had been skyrocketing during the past few months, and all signs pointed to organized crime – namely, Black Sun. As Earth was not yet equipped to deal with a galaxy-spanning crime syndicate, they'd asked the Republic for aid in extracting the organization before it had a chance to take root on their planet.

The Republic had sent Jedi Master Skywalker to handle the affair. Though reluctant to leave his students, Luke had accepted the offer, if only because it meant he might be able to see his father for the first time since summer. Needless to say, he was disappointed to find out that Black Sun had yet to expand its operations outside Salt Lake City, thus cutting off any need to leave the city in order to complete the mission.

_Why here, though? Sure, it's big, but I can think of other places where a sudden rise in crime is less likely to be a concern. Here a crime hike is a crisis. Whoever's taken charge of Black Sun must either be an idiot or have some other itinerary that I have yet to discover._

"Luke?"

He turned to see an old Greyhound bus pull over to the curb – and Brigham Pratt's head sticking out one of the windows.

"Hey Brigham!" he called out. "How's it going?"

"What are you doing here?" Brigham replied. "I thought you were back on Corusant with your Jedi trainees!"

"Luke!" Anakin pulled down his window. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I'll explain everything later," Luke explained. "Meanwhile, can I get a ride?"

"You bet!" exclaimed Brigham. "Hey Hyrum, open the door! This guy's a friend of ours!"

"If he's a friend of yours, Brigham, I'm very afraid," came the reply, but the door opened.

Welcomes, introductions, and greetings were exchanged all around, and Luke took a seat beside his father as the bus continued on its way.

"Are we there yet?" shouted Emma.

"Hang on for ten more minutes, baby," Lydia encouraged. "We'll be at Grandma's soon."

"So what's going on?" asked Luke. "What are you doing here in Utah?"

"Brigham invited several of us to his family's home for Christmas," Anakin explained. "What are YOU doing in Utah?"

"Black Sun."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. They've got operations here, and I've been sent to put a stop to them."

"Black Sun's setting up in Salt Lake?" asked Cody, raising an eyebrow. "That's like opening a strip joint in Vatican City."

"What's Black Sun?" asked Hyrum. "A plague?"

"Close enough," Anakin murmured.

"It's the biggest organized crime syndicate in the galaxy."

Everyone turned to stare at Opal, who blushed when she realized she'd spoken aloud and slouched deeper into her seat.

"You're a Star Wars fan?" asked Austin.

She mumbled yes and sank lower.

"Hey, don't be shy about it, honey," Liberty told her. "We're fans ourselves."

Cody was grinning. "Man, if Zack were here, he'd be screaming about finding the girl of his dreams!"

"Easy on her," Brigham whispered, elbowing his friend.

"Are we there yet?" demanded Christopher.

"Of course we're not!" Gideon retorted. "We haven't even reached Grandma's street!"

"Got a place to stay, Luke?" asked Hyrum. "There's room at our parents' house."

"I have reservations at a hotel not far from here," he replied.

"Well, at least stay for dinner," Lydia encouraged.

"I'd be happy to."

"We there yet?" asked Wendy, more in repetition of her brother and sister than from actual boredom.

"No, we're not there yet!" Hyrum snapped. "Geez Louise, I'm going to go crazy here in a few minutes."

---------

The Pratt residence was a large and gorgeous house set just outside the city limits, glowing with Christmas lights. The interior was warm and comforting – and bustling with people. Brigham had two brothers and two sisters who'd shown up for Christmas (a third sister, Vera, was serving in Iraq as an Air Force pilot), and two of them had brought their families as well. In addition to Hyrum's brood, there was Brigham's parents Hazel and Jacob, his gangly-looking younger brother Felix, his sister Judy, Judy's husband Clinton, their eight-year-old twin son and daughter Lexus and London, Brigham's teenage sister Ruth, his grandmother Alzina… and, of course, Opal, who'd retreated to a corner as soon as politely possible.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Pratt," Austin greeted Jacob Pratt, shaking his hand. "Austin Powers and my son Trapper."

"Austin Powers?" exclaimed Clinton, laughing. "The International Man of Mystery? Yeah, baby!"

Austin's face went unusually taut. Anakin tensed. He knew Austin detested being teased or ridiculed for his infamous name.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Clinton said immediately. "Didn't mean to…"

"That's okay," Austin replied, relaxing. "I guess I should get used to it."

The kids bonded almost immediately, and the seven of them retreated to the next room to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." Opal looked plaintively that way, as if longing to join them.

"Grandma Alzina, this is Anakin Skywalker," Brigham introduced, leading him over to a white-haired, frail-looking woman in a wheelchair next to the fireplace. To Anakin he whispered, "Try to speak clearly, she's going deaf."

"I HEARD THAT, BRIGHAM!" Alzina screeched. "Going deaf, my foot!"

Anakin burst out laughing. He liked this woman.

"Looks like Darth Vader to me," she went on, looking Anakin up and down before shaking his hand with a surprisingly firm grip. "What's next, Boba Fett going around saying he's Han Solo? By the way, Mr. Vader, your son's a real hottie!"

"Don't mind her," Brigham whispered even more quietly. "Her mind's starting to go a bit." He slipped off to greet his sister.

Alzina tugged Anakin's arm, and he leaned down to catch her next words.

"I love being old," she said with a smile. "You get to say whatever crosses your mind and no one objects."

He laughed again. "Very pleased to meet you, Alzina."

Mrs. Pratt entered the room at that moment, carefully balancing a tray laden with mugs. "Anyone care for a drink? We have hot apple cider, hot cocoa, and eggnog."

"I thought Mormon's didn't drink," Cody protested, taking a mug.

"It's non-alcoholic eggnog," she explained.

Anakin accepted some cocoa, opened his air intake vent, and began to sip. Felix and Clinton stared, impressed that he was able to drink through the mask.

"Sorry to say hello and run," Mr. Pratt told them, "but Ruth and I need to run to the airport and pick up her boyfriend, Xizor."

His timing was particularly bad. Anakin and Cody were still standing in front of Mrs. Pratt, and poor Hazel was sprayed with eggnog and chocolate as the two of them simultaneously spat out their drinks.

"Prince Xizor?" demanded Vader.

"Xizor?" repeated Cody. "Green guy with a topknot and claws?"

"Yeah, why?" Mr. Pratt asked. "Friend of yours?"

"No way!" Cody screeched. "He's the head of Black Sun!"

"Black Sun?" repeated Judy. "What on Earth is Black Sun?"

"It's not on Earth… actually, it is now," explained Luke. "It's a crime organization that's been plaguing the galaxy for years. It's also the reason why I'm here. We believe Black Sun is responsible for the crime rise in Salt Lake City, and I'm here to investigate it."

Mrs. Pratt gasped, and the tray of mugs crashed to the floor.

"Oh, for land's sakes," Mr. Pratt grumbled, bending down to pick up the broken mugs. "How do you know that Prince Xizor's the head of this Black Sun anyhow?"

"Haven't you read 'Shadows of the Empire?'" Cody demanded. When Mr. Pratt shook his head, he turned to the others. "Has anyone here read 'Shadows of the Empire?'"

"Skimmed it," Luke replied. "Mostly accurate, but some parts were obviously fiction."

Opal hesitantly raised her hand. "I thought Xizor was dead," she said softly.

"Of course he's not dead," Ruth replied. "He's been writing me for a few months now, and he's even been investigating our church. He's a good man, really. Very nice – I can't wait for you to meet him…"

"Ruth," Anakin told her sternly, "I know I'm a complete stranger to you, but please listen to me – Xizor is a dangerous man. He is a skilled manipulator, and he is not above using violence to acquire what he wants. If you maintain a relationship with him, it can lead to serious consequences. And if he is still behind Black Sun, he may only consider you to be a pawn in whatever schemes he has."

Ruth gave him a disdainful look. "Thanks for your input, sir, but I usually don't take advice from people who spit all over my mother." And she stormed out the door.

"Don't mind her," Mr. Pratt advised. "She's eighteen and going through some weird hormonal stage." He shrugged into his coat. "Well, better go pick up the Don of the Intergalactic Mafia." He gave Cody a skeptical look and followed Ruth out.

"I take it nobody believes us," Cody groaned.

"My poor baby," sobbed Mrs. Pratt, not heeding the soggy mess of spilled drinks and broken ceramic at her feet. "I knew it wasn't a good idea for her to be writing that… alien, but a crime lord…"

"It's okay, Mom," Brigham assured her, hugging her. "Anakin Skywalker's here. If Xizor's really a danger, he can keep him under control."

Anakin could only hope this was the case.


	3. Trouble in Salt Lake City

**Chapter 3 – Trouble in Salt Lake City**

While Mrs. Pratt showered, Mr. Pratt and Ruth picked up Xizor, and the other adults cleaned up the mess in the living room, Luke and Anakin went into a spare bedroom to discuss what information Luke had so far.

"Another benefit of Earth's knowledge of our galaxy," Anakin noted. "They are able to see connections others cannot."

"But I thought you killed Xizor," Luke protested. "Your ships destroyed his skyhook…"

"I did destroy his skyhook. He must have escaped." He shook his head. "Ruth is obviously in love with him and can't see any fault in him, and her father's sided with her. That's going to complicate matters."

Luke flipped through the police reports the city had provided him. "We're assuming he's still in charge of Black Sun, though. For all we know, someone else could have taken his place. And who knows? Maybe he really is trying to go straight and is pursuing religion as a means to do so. I can't know until I talk to him."

"Try to hold your conversation with him when Ruth isn't around," Anakin advised. "She'll jump in and defend him, which will only distract you."

"Good idea." He fanned out the police reports in order to get a good look at all of them, then opened a holomap of Salt Lake City.

"What sort of crimes are being pinned on Black Sun?" Anakin asked.

"Robbery of an arms store, suspect escaped," Luke replied, scanning the reports. "Suspicious activity near the Lion House restaurant, suspects gone on arrival of police; vandalism near Tabernacle, suspect apprehended but released on bail, hasn't been seen since; street brawl near the Seagull Monument, suspects escaped; more suspicious activity at LDS Visitor's Center, suspects arrested and identified as known members of Black Sun, but they aren't talking. Need I go on?"

Anakin whistled. "Most of those are around city landmarks."

"And the suspects are off-worlders," Luke added. "What I imagine is that they've been sent to case the joint, if you catch my drift."

"Do you mean to say that Black Sun is planning an attack on the church's headquarters?"

He pushed a button, and points of red appeared on the holomap to mark the locations provided by the police reports. A few were scattered here and there, but most of them clustered around Temple Square.

"What does Black Sun have against the Mormons?" Anakin demanded.

"No idea," Luke replied. "I have an appointment with the church's First Presidency tomorrow. They've agreed to talk to me about the matter. Hopefully they can provide some information."

"Brigham is going to flip when he hears about this," Anakin muttered.

"All the more reason to keep this quiet until we have more data," Luke replied. "I don't want anyone panicking and giving Xizor cause to suspect that we're onto him."

Anakin shook his head again. "I'd hoped to see you over the holidays, son. I just didn't know you'd bring a crisis with you. You seem to be good at that."

A door slammed, and someone shrieked.

"Sounds like Xizor's made his entrance," Anakin noted. "And the kids aren't thrilled."

They stood and entered the living room, where the handsome Falleen was shaking hands with Felix and Clinton and grinning widely. Ruth was clinging to his arm and smiling dreamily up at him, and her father beamed proudly as if introducing an old friend. Cody and Mrs. Pratt, meanwhile, were holding back from the welcome party and glaring untrustingly at their visitor.

"Luke, Anakin, meet Xizor," Ruth gushed.

"Ah, Anakin Skywalker," Xizor noted, voice smooth. "We've met."

Anakin looked his old rival up and down, ignoring the proffered hand. Xizor had once been affluent and dressed and acted accordingly; either he truly had lost his position with Black Sun and with it his wealth, or he had truly changed his lifestyle in an attempt to turn a new leaf. He wore a conservative uniform reminiscent of an Imperial officer, with the only ornament on his body being a shield-shaped golden medallion with the letters CTR emblazoned on it. His demeanor was no longer haughty or confidant – rather, he appeared relaxed and genuinely friendly. There was nothing about him that suggested he was up to something sinister.

Which, in Anakin's mind, only confirmed that he WAS up to something sinister.

"Hello, Xizor," he greeted in a neutral tone.

"Hello indeed," Xizor replied. "I never imagined I'd run into you again." He chuckled. "How has life treated you since the demise of the Empire?"

"I choose not to answer that."

"Oh come now," Xizor chided. "Let's not let old differences come between us, especially during the holidays."

"Sorry, but he doesn't consort with Black Sun," came Cody's snide remark.

"Cody!" hissed Liberty. "Don't get involved!"

"Come on, Lib!" Cody shouted. "He might have fooled everyone else, but he can't fool Anakin Skywalker! A snake can't change his scales, can he?"

"Oooh," groaned Brigham. "That was harsh."

Xizor lowered his hand. "I can see that I'm not yet welcome in the eyes of all."

"You'll just have to try a little harder," Ruth encouraged. "Show them that you're really a good man inside."

"Yes," he smiled, looping an arm around her waist. "I shall."

The two of them strolled off, talking softly, leaving a dumbfounded Anakin behind. Had Xizor truly changed, as Ruth had suggested? Or was he simply charming the Pratt family as part of some greater plan? And most of all, what was that greater plan and how did it involve Brigham's family, especially his naïve younger sister?

"Psst," whispered Austin, leaning over to Anakin. "What's the meaning of that medallion Xizor was wearing?"

"I have no idea," he confessed.

"It's a CTR shield," Brigham replied. "It's a Mormon thing. CTR stands for 'choose the right.' It's kinda like WWJD – 'what would Jesus do?'"

"I know Jesus wouldn't be caught dead with his hair in a topknot," Cody said, making a face.

Sleeping arrangements were an adventure all their own, it would seem. At least Luke and Xizor had hotel rooms – everyone else fought over the house's four guest rooms.

"I say married couples get the rooms first," suggested Mr. Pratt. "Sorry, Austin, but I really don't count you and Liberty as a married couple."

"Not yet," Liberty said with a wink at Austin.

"So Clinton and Judy, and Hyrum and Lydia get two of the rooms," Felix noted, ticking points off on his fingers. "Grandma probably needs her own room too. What about the last one?"

"I say the kids get it," Lexus declared with all the authority an eight-year-old can muster.

"I'm not sure…" began Mrs. Pratt.

"All in favor of kids getting the last room say 'aye!'" shouted Christopher.

"Aye!" came seven youthful voices, with Cody and Brigham's voices backing them up.

"All right, kids go in the ground floor bedroom," Mr. Pratt declared, stepping aside as the children stampeded into the room with their sleeping bags.

"Mr. Skywalker?" asked Mrs. Pratt. "Where would you like to sleep? You can always use our room."

"No need," he replied, dropping his bag beside the couch. "If I'm not mistaken, this couch folds out into a bed. It will do."

"Okay. Can I get you some sheets and a blanket?"

"Yes, thank you."

At long last the house quieted down as Mr. Pratt left to take Luke and Xizor back to their hotel rooms and everyone else retreated to bed. Anakin pulled off his boots and gloves, removed his cloak, and laid down on the hide-a-bed with an exhausted moan. What a day. What was supposed to be a restful vacation had become yet another jaunt into interplanetary intrigue and double-cross. A rejuvenated crime organization, a back-from-the-dead old foe, a city's safety in possible peril… and as if things couldn't get more complex, a young woman's love and his own son's safety were tied up in the mix.

Muffled giggles and chatter came from the kids' room not far away. At least the children had it easy. For a child, life was simple. The Christmas season to them simply meant a break from school, lots of presents (hopefully), songs, and decorations. In their minds, the biggest conflict was the ongoing "Does Santa exist or not?" debate. For a brief moment, he envied them.

One of the girls – he guessed Wendy – squealed in laughter, to be shushed by an insistent hiss. He smiled sadly. Being with Brigham's family made him wish he had family memories of his own. A childhood as a slave didn't offer much in the way of fond nostalgia. And thanks to his own choices, he hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy time with his own family.

_Perhaps next Christmas I can arrange for a family holiday, _he decided. _I'll have to discuss it with Luke and Leia. I'm sure they'd be most receptive._

Satisfied, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

Luke shut the car door and buckled his seat belt. "So you're the artist formerly known as Prince Xizor," he quipped, using a little Earth pop culture in an attempt to break the ice.

Xizor laughed. "I am."

He pretended to adjust the seat belt, in the process slipping a hand into his pocket and thumbing on a small recording unit. "I've heard a lot about you from both my father and Cody. But I'd personally like to hear your history from you."

"Oh, you can learn that from reading a book, I'm sure," Xizor demurred.

"The book maintains that you died almost a year ago," Luke countered. "But unless I'm addressing a very solid-looking ghost, the book is missing something."

He sighed. "It's personal."

"Share it," encouraged Mr. Pratt. "It's a great conversion story."

"All right," Xizor conceded.

_Thank you, Mr. Pratt! _Luke wanted to cheer, but he kept quiet.

"You know well that I used to be the leader of Black Sun," Xizor explained. "I had wealth and power beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Unfortunately, I had many enemies, among them your father. And almost a year ago, your father killed many of my employees and very nearly destroyed me with them when he demolished my skyhook. It was a miracle that enabled me to make it to an escape shuttle in time.

"But news of my 'death' spread fast, and by the time I found my way back to my headquarters, another had taken charge of Black Sun. In a matter of hours, I was ruined. My wealth and position had gone, the lavish life I had led was over. And I couldn't show my face in public, or Vader would surely have tracked me down and finished me off.

"In desperation I fled to Ord Mantell, scrounging for a living by cleaning freighters. Meanwhile, I sank into depression – who wouldn't after being brought so low? I remember I drank rather heavily during that time, and I spent hours at a time screaming at the stars, raging at fate and the Force for their cruelty.

"One night, shortly after the discovery of Earth and the fall of the Empire, I got on the Holonet and posted a desperate message. By that point, I was almost suicidal. I believe if nothing had happened that night, I very well would have taken my life. But someone replied to my plea almost immediately – a young lady named Ruth Pratt.

"We bonded almost immediately. She told me about her religion and its message of hope, and offered to put me in touch with the missionaries. I soon moved to a small town in Arizona and took the religious discussions, all the while keeping in correspondence with Ruth." He smiled gently. "She saved my life. If she hadn't reached me that night, I'd be dead. But now I have a new life, a new reason for living. And after I am baptized into the church at the end of this year, I plan to propose to Ruth and be bonded to her forever as a husband."

"Now that's a great story," Mr. Pratt beamed.

Luke smiled. "That's a touching story, Xizor, but would it send you back into depression if I told you that I really didn't believe you?"

Xizor raised an eyebrow. "Would it damage your ego, Jedi, if I told you I really don't care?"

"All right you two, play nice," Mr. Pratt chided. "Luke, your hotel's coming up."

"Thank you, Mr. Pratt," Luke told him.

"See you tomorrow for dinner?"

"Sure. Thanks for the offer."

The Pratt car pulled away, and Luke flicked off the recorder before entering the hotel lobby and shaking the snow from his cloak.

_Either Xizor's had a lot of time to concoct a story, or he's telling the truth. He lies too smoothly to tell the difference. At any rate, I can't know for sure if he's behind all this until I have more information._

He made his way up the stairs to his room. Maybe his meeting tomorrow with the First Presidency would sort a few things out.


	4. Trees, Tensions, and Threats

**Chapter 4 – Tinsel, Tensions, and Threats**

Anakin and the three Pratt brothers entered the living room, laden with boxes and covered with dust from their jaunt into the attic. "Did we get everything?" asked Felix hopefully.

Judy took one look at the four men and burst into giggles.

"My, don't you look festive," Liberty teased.

Anakin joined in the laughter. Besides the boxes full of Christmas decorations, each of them was draped with Christmas lights and tinsel. Brigham had a Santa hat balanced precariously on his head, and Anakin wore a wreath around his neck for lack of a better place to put it. He set his box down, removed the wreath, and hung it on the front door.

"When's Grandpa and Dad and the funny guy gonna get here with the tree?" begged London.

"About fifteen minutes," Austin assured him. "And FYI, kid, the funny guy's name is Cody."

"He was close enough with 'funny guy,'" Trapper remarked, pulling a wad of newspaper from a box and carefully unwrapping it to reveal a porcelain camel.

"Oh, that's part of Grandma's nativity," Ruth told him, reaching out to snatch the statuette away from him. "Careful."

"Trapper's a very careful boy," Austin assured her. "Believe me, he collects vintage action figures, and no one touches them without feeling his wrath."

"Da-ad," Trapper groaned as he set the camel on an end table.

While waiting for Clinton, Jacob, and Cody to get back with the tree, the rest of the household began putting up other decorations. Being the tallest member of the household, Anakin got drafted into hanging swags of tinsel and greenery along the tops of the walls.

"Do they have any holidays like Christmas where you come from?" asked Lydia as she arranged decorative stockings on the mantle.

"There's Life Day," Anakin replied. "It's similar, but it doesn't come with the traditions and stories that your holiday does. And from what I've seen so far, I much prefer Christmas to Life Day. Christopher, hand me another thumb tack, will you?"

The boy dutifully handed him the item. "So do you believe in Santa Claus, Mr. Skywalker?"

"Of course he doesn't!" Gideon retorted, looking over from where he and Trapper were arranging the nativity. "He's a grownup! He's too old to believe in baby stuff!"

"I'm not a baby!" Christopher shot back. "And there is too a Santa!"

"Boys, don't make me send you outside to cool off," Hyrum said warningly.

"Tell him to grow up!" Gideon snapped at the same time Christopher cried, "Tell him to stop picking on me!"

"Both of you stop it," Lydia ordered. "Santa doesn't bring presents to boys who fight with their brothers, you know."

"You mean Mom and Dad don't bring presents to boys who fight," Gideon corrected.

"Hey, shut up," Trapper ordered. "Let him believe if he wants to."

"Hey Darth – I mean Anakin, what do you think?" Gideon demanded. "Do you think Santa exists? Or is he just made up?"

_Great, the kid puts me on the spot, _he thought, pinning up the last garland. He brushed tinsel from his breastplate and turned to face Gideon.

"I think," he replied carefully, "that there are many things in this galaxy that cannot be explained. I have personally seen many things that, had I not seen them, I wouldn't have believed could happen or exist. Yes, some tales may seem rather unbelievable. But I will not dismiss a story until I have made sure for myself whether it is true or not. I do not know for sure whether this Santa gentleman is real, but until I find out I will not deny his existence."

"Ha!" Christopher said triumphantly.

"Drop dead," Gideon humphed.

"Stop it, Gideon," Hyrum ordered.

At that moment Cody burst into the house, snow dusting the shoulders of his jacket. Around his neck he wore a leather strap studded with jingle bells, and from an elastic headband a wire protruded from which dangled a sprig of mistletoe. A gaudy red-and-green felt elf hat, decorated with fake holly and more jingle bells, was flopped lopsidedly atop his head.

"'Rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop!'" he belted out in a very off-key voice. ""Mistletoe hung where you can see every couple tries to stop…'"

The Pratt family's cat, an ancient gray tabby dubbed She-Ra, had been napping on the couch, but upon hearing Cody's raucous entrance she bolted with a sort of pained yowl.

"Geez, even the cat thinks you can't carry a tune," noted Austin.

"Okay, so I'm not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir," he confessed.

"'Course not, you're Catholic," Austin replied.

"I don't think you have to be a Mormon to sing in the choir," Ruth pointed out. "Hey, you guys gonna bring in the tree or just have it sit in the truck all winter?"

"I'll bring it in for a kiss," Cody replied teasingly, leaning forward in an effort to put the mistletoe over Ruth's head.

Ruth rolled her eyes and brushed past him. "Fine, I'll go help Dad and Brig with the tree."

Cody shrugged. "Teenagers. They have no sense of humor."

"She's been acting funny ever since she fell for that Xizor guy," noted Felix.

"Ah, she's a love-struck youth!" Cody sighed in a sickly-sweet voice. Then, in a more normal if somewhat ornery tone he added, "Hope he slips on the sidewalk and breaks his neck on his way in tonight."

"Here comes the tree!" Clinton exclaimed as he and Mr. Pratt hauled a tall evergreen into the house. The kids squealed in glee.

"It's beautiful!" Lexus gushed.

"It cost fifty bucks, so treat it nice," Mr. Pratt said warningly. "Anakin, help me get it set up, will ya?"

Once the tree was fastened securely into the tree stand, everyone set to work unboxing ornaments. Anakin found himself in a corner, helping Opal untangle the Christmas tree lights.

"You have a wonderful family, Opal," he told her.

She didn't reply, only focused on working a snarl in the wire apart.

"It's okay, you can talk to me," he assured her.

She didn't look up. "Maybe I don't want to talk."

"Ah." He remained silent as he worked.

Evidently something he had said had opened the floodgate, because she continued to talk in a quiet monotone. "You can think this family's wonderful if you want, but you don't know them. You don't know how obsessed they are with religion or how they think anyone who decides to not be part of the church anymore is a traitor to the family." She stared at the knotted wires in her hands. "It really hurts to see them acting all warm and friendly to that Xizor creature just because he wants to join the church, yet they completely ignore me."

He felt a stab of pity for her. "It must be difficult. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. If anything, it's mine. I shouldn't have told anyone that I was being excommunicated. If they thought I was still a Mormon, maybe they would have at least sent me a Christmas card sometime in the past three years."

"Then you would have been living a lie," Anakin pointed out. "Could you live with yourself knowing you had deceived those close to you?"

"I suppose not." A pause. "And anyhow, my cousin Brigham didn't seem to mind. At least he would still talk to me." She gave a half-smile. "He's the only reason I came, actually. He never judges. And he's probably the only one in the family with friends that have no intention of joining the church."

"He's a wonderful young man. A shame that he hasn't found a woman yet."

"If I wasn't related to him, I'd date him," Opal replied.

There was a sudden shriek from Liberty as Cody laughingly dropped a fistful of snow down the back of her shirt. She whirled, clutching the garland in her hands as if to strangle him with it.

"Hey girl, it was all in fun!" Cody protested, backing away with his hands up in a placating gesture.

"You," Liberty snarled, "are going to find yourself Utah's first homicide case in which the murder weapon was Christmas tree tinsel!"

Cody ran off with a shriek as she chased him out of the living room, trailing the garland after her like an overlong crystal snake.

"These are your friends, Brig?" inquired Mrs. Pratt with a raised eyebrow.

"She wouldn't really kill him," Brigham assured her. "Amethyst probably will sometime on the honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" repeated Austin.

"Yeah, didn't you hear? He proposed to her this Thanksgiving, and she said yes."

"Those two?" Austin marveled. "I never would have thought them a couple."

"Oh, behind all the teasing about Maria Von Trapp, he genuinely liked her," Brigham replied.

Opal smiled. "Your friends sound wonderful."

"Yeah, it's a fun place, Star City is," Austin replied. "Two Star Wars conventions every summer and so many fun and interesting people."

"Weird people, you mean," Trapper put in.

"Can't argue there," Austin conceded.

"I'd like to live there," Opal mused. "How big a town is it?"

"About five thousand people. Done with the lights yet?"

Anakin and Opal brought the lights over and began stringing them. The kids sorted out ornaments according to type and began hanging them gleefully anywhere within reach. Mrs. Pratt reached down as if to rearrange the decorations – after all, they were mostly on the lower branches and clumped together in odd areas – but Mr. Pratt shook his head with a smile.

"Let them hang them where they want," he told her gently. "The children enjoy decorating the tree and feeling like a part of the tradition. Don't spoil it."

At last Anakin lifted Wendy to the top of the tree, where she fastened the golden star to the top. Brigham plugged the lights in, and everyone stepped back to admire the handiwork.

"Ooooh!" crooned Cody. "Pretty."

"Now that that's over, who wants Christmas cookies?" asked Mrs. Pratt.

"Me!" all the kids chorused at once.

"Me! Me!" Cody cried, bouncing on his toes. "Got sugar-free?"

She laughed. "I remembered to bake some for you this year, Cody."

"You mean he's been here before?" asked Opal.

"Oh yeah, Brig invites anyone in our club who wants to come over to his house for Christmas," Austin replied. "I believe this is Liberty's second year and Cody's third, but this is the first time Trapper and I have been here. It's kind of a tradition."

"I don't think Mike's allowed back, though," Liberty added.

"Why, what did he do?" asked Anakin.

"You know that Mike spent a couple years in prison for something he didn't do," Austin explained. "Poor guy's always been a bit simple and was easily set up to take the fall by his buddies. Anyhow, when his appeal finally went through he came out with quite a few behind-bars stories to share, and from what I hear, last year Judy walked in on him sharing a few with the kids."

"He was telling them about his last cellmate, for crying out loud!" Judy complained. "The guy had murdered his wife and her lover with a vacuum cleaner!"

"A vacuum cleaner?" repeated Felix, making a distasteful face.

"So needless to say, they asked him not to come back again," Austin finished.

"That's too bad," said Hyrum. "He was a nice guy. Apart from the prison stories, I mean," he amended when Lydia began glaring at him.

"You can invite him over if you're willing to stay up with the kids when they have nightmares," Lydia informed him crisply.

After dinner had been cleared away (and the mashed potatoes Emma and Gideon had been hurling at each other cleaned off the walls), Mrs. Pratt gathered the family and guests together and announced the beginning of one of their Christmas traditions.

"Nobody here has the resources to buy everyone in this house a Christmas present," she explained, "so we'll make it simple. I've put everyone's name in these three bowls." She gestured at the bowls before her. "Everyone will draw one name from each of these bowls. If you draw your name or more than one copy of the same person's name, put it back and draw a new one. Those will be the people you get presents for."

"What if we want to get presents for anyone else, like our children?" asked Austin.

"You can exchange those presents later Christmas Day, when you're not in front of everyone else."

"Luke, don't you want to participate?" asked Liberty.

"Nah," he replied. "Let this be something your family enjoys."

The kids drew names first, whispering and giggling over their choices. Lydia helped Wendy decipher what names she had received while the rest of the adults drew.

"Aw man, I got Grandma again!" grumbled Lexus. "I never know what to get her!"

"Use your imagination," Brigham suggested.

Anakin examined his choices – Gideon, Opal, and Liberty. Well, Liberty wouldn't be too hard, but he'd have to ask Brigham about his relatives' tastes. He knew Gideon liked fantasy, but what about Opal…

"Oh no," moaned Cody.

"What is it?" asked Anakin.

Cody showed him the slip he'd drawn – marked "Xizor."

"I see. I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"Don't you at least want to exchange?" Cody begged.

"No," he replied quickly. He wasn't about to be caught dead buying gifts for Xizor either.

"Get him a gag gift," Austin suggested. "That's what I do for relatives I hate."

"I'm not getting presents for an intergalactic crime lord!" Cody hissed.

"Shut up, he'll hear!" Austin snapped.

Too late. Xizor had overheard the conversation and was already handing his names to Luke.

"I'm sorry, but I suppose it's for the best if I bow out of the gift exchange this year. Luke can take my place."

"Xizor, don't listen to what they say…" Mr. Pratt told him.

"I don't want to cause contention in your house," Xizor replied, giving a magnanimous bow. "And as those two will obviously never accept that I have changed, it's best if they don't have to deal with my presence. I'll be in the other room while everyone finishes drawing names." He bowed again and strode out.

Ruth glared at Anakin and Cody. "Thanks a lump for making him feel so welcome!" she spat before fleeing the room, sobbing.

"Nice one, Cody," grumbled Brigham.

"What?" demanded Cody. "I was just stating a fact!"

"You could have been a little more tactful!" retorted Brigham.

"Why are you defending the guy anyway?" shrieked Cody. "You know his past as well as I do…"

"I couldn't care less about him either," Brigham shot back, "but by gosh, that was my SISTER you just hurt there! Why couldn't you just keep your big mouth shut…"

"I'm just trying to warn her away from the creep…"

"It's none of your beeswax, and if you make her cry again I'll smash your teeth in…"

"BREAK IT UP!" shouted Anakin, taking great advantage of his thunderous bass. "Cody, I know you don't like Xizor, and neither do I. But he's just as much a guest here as you, and you should be treating both him and Ruth with respect!"

Cody shrunk back as if slapped.

"And you!" Anakin went on, rounding on Brigham next. "I agree that Cody's remarks were uncalled for, but stang it all, he's your friend! And despite his 'big mouth,' as you call it, his intentions were good."

Brigham stared at him as if he'd transformed.

"Are you done?" asked Mr. Pratt blandly. "You're scaring the children."

"My apologies," Anakin replied.

"Wow, he really looked like Darth Vader there," breathed Christopher.

"Bedtime, kiddies," Mrs. Pratt told them. "We have shopping to do tomorrow."

"Five more minutes?" pleaded London.

Needless to say, it was a rather subdued and divided household that began settling down for the night. Brigham and Cody shot each other daggers all evening, and Xizor slunk through the halls as if trying to keep from drawing attention. Opal, never overly outgoing to begin with, became so reclusive that Luke almost sat down in the recliner in the living room without realizing she was already sitting in it.

"And on that lovely note, we get ready for Christmas Day," Anakin said with a healthy note of sarcasm. "I'm sure I'm all the rage with the Pratts now."

"We knew this was going to be a problem ever since Xizor came in the picture," Luke told him. "Don't worry, you only have three more days to deal with him."

"And doubtless they'll be three very long days." He sat down in the armchair next to the tree, staring into its sparkling branches. "I forgot to ask how your meeting with the church leaders went this afternoon."

"Pleasantly productive," Luke replied, gently taking a silver reindeer ornament from the tree and casually studying it. "They were quite willing to talk and even gave me a Book of Mormon as a gift. No pressure to investigate their church, curiously."

"I'm hearing the pleasant part, but not the productive."

"I'm getting there. President Hinckley informed me that a couple of months back – the first week of October, to be exact – a representative of an interstellar 'commerce guild' arranged an appointment with him and asked if the LDS church would be willing to negotiate an alliance with them. Apparently the church has a lot of money and assets, and this guild was interested in consolidating its wealth with the church's in exchange for 'protecting' the LDS people."

"Can't get more blatantly Black Sun than that, can they?" Anakin noted. "He turned them down, I'm sure."

"President Hinckley's no Star Wars fanatic, but he's a perceptive man. He gave Black Sun a flat no. A few days later he received a threatening letter, informing him that unless he reconsidered his decision, church members, missionaries, and temples all over the planet would be in great danger." Luke replaced the ornament. "He's suspected that Black Sun's activities around Temple Square are in preparation to fulfill that threat."

"As you said, he's perceptive. Has he taken any action? Alerted the members?"

"He's asked for tighter security at the larger temples and cautioned the missionaries to be careful in their dealings. But he won't issue any special warning to the members; he doesn't want to start a panic. Besides, he says he has faith that all will be worked out by the Lord."

"I hope his faith will not be betrayed," Anakin replied.

"I'm not letting Black Sun hurt anyone on this planet," Luke told him fiercely.

"I believe you, Luke," Anakin replied. _I only hope you do not hurt yourself in the process, _he added quietly.


	5. Christmas Shopping

**Chapter 5 – Christmas Shopping**

"Why does every yahoo in the world put off their Christmas shopping until the day before Christmas Eve?" grumbled Brigham. "And drag their kids along so they can snap pictures of them screaming on Santa's lap?"

The mall seemed to be one solid wall of shoppers – scanning lists of items or gift recipients, holding up traffic while they gabbled on cell phones, waving shopping bags around, griping at their kids that Santa wouldn't come to their house if they didn't stop hitting their sisters or get down off that store display this instant. The merry tones of "Sleigh Ride" over the mall's Musak system was nearly drowned out by the shouting and babble and general bedlam, and the magnificent tree and glittering decorations were mostly ignored in the mad rush.

Brigham wasn't exactly a scrooge, but he found that he appreciated the season more when he was away from the commercialistic mayhem. It was hard to remember "peace on Earth, good will toward men" while standing in line at the gift-wrapping counter between an impossibly picky Martha-Stewart-wannabe ("Keep wrapping that box until you get it right!") and an unbelievably rude teenager who, when he wasn't cursing out the slow employees or the world in general, was singing along to the Musak songs and adding his own nasty lyrics.

"Uncle Brigham, can we see Santa?" begged Emma.

"Can we go to the candy store?" pleaded Lexus.

"I wanna buy my presents NOW!" demanded Gideon.

"Can it, kids," he ordered. "I have to do my shopping first."

Somehow Brigham, being the only family member without children of his own to shop for and not having to buy gifts for any of the children in the gift exchange, had gotten drafted into babysitting the lot of them while their parents and the others made their purchases. Not that he minded watching his nephews and nieces most of the time, but around Christmastime, when they were hyper as all get out, he preferred to enjoy them from a good distance. He sighed. At least he wasn't responsible for Trapper or Wendy – Trapper was with his own dad, and Hyrum and Lydia liked to keep Wendy with them, as she had a penchant for wandering off.

"Finally," he murmured thankfully, taking his wrapped package from the gift-wrapping employee. "Now we can go see Santa, then we'll get your guys' presents."

The kids cheered.

As they joined the throng waiting to see the jolly old elf, Brigham took another peek in his shopping bag. He'd somehow managed to draw only adult names in the drawing – Anakin, his own father, and Cody. Anakin had been easy enough to buy for, and his father would certainly appreciate the books he'd bought. But Cody had been the hardest.

Oh, he liked the guy well enough. He was always the life of the party and bursting with information on the no-longer-fictional Star Wars galaxy. But lately their relationship had grown very strained. There had always been religious differences, yes, but never anything beyond gentle ribbing on that note. Ruth's new boyfriend, however, was another story altogether. Cody made no bones about insulting or trash-talking Xizor in front of her and had actually driven her to tears a few times.

Brigham wasn't going to put up with that. He had no great love for Xizor either, but he wasn't going to treat his sister badly because of that. And who knew? The guy might really have changed for the better.

"Having fun yet, Brigham?"

He turned to see Anakin standing nearby, holding two wrapped parcels under one arm.

"Loads," Brigham replied sarcastically. "The time of my life."

"Ah," he noted. "I thought I'd ask your opinion on a matter, if you could spare a moment."

"Sure." He bent to pry London's teeth out of his leg. "Fire away."

"I drew your cousin's name in the gift exchange. I was wondering if you had any idea what she might like for Christmas."

He shrugged. "Beats me. She doesn't have many interests outside Star Wars. She's obsessed with stormtroopers and likes alternative rock, but that's about as much as I know."

"Well, that narrows it down a bit," Anakin replied. "Ah, I see her in the food court. I may simply talk to her and see if I can't get a few ideas."

"Just don't get her a Book of Mormon," Brigham advised. "She's made it clear that she's not about to reconsider joining the church. Besides, I'm sure if anyone else in the family drew her name, she's going to get at least one of those."

"I'll remember that." He swept away, his cloak drifting gently behind him.

"I think at all Star Wars conventions they should have Darth Vader sitting in a chair, and kids should come and sit in his lap and get candy," Gideon announced.

"I'll let the people in charge of Nova-Con know," Brigham replied. _Though I have a feeling Trekkies will be admitted to the con for free before anyone takes the suggestion, _he thought amusedly.

At long last everyone in their group had taken a turn on Santa's lap and recited their wish lists, and they proceeded to drag Brigham from store to store in their search for gifts for everyone on their own lists.

"I'm gonna get something for you, Uncle Brigham!" Lexus announced. "Don't look!"

So Brigham found himself paying twenty dollars for an item that was promptly bundled in a brown paper bag and tucked securely beneath Lexus' jacket. Well, at least he knew where it had been purchased so he could return it if necessary.

"I'm gonna get Mom a box of candy," Christopher said proudly. "Let's go to See's next!"

"Hey, I wanted to get that for her!" Gideon protested.

"Too late, I said it first," Christopher replied.

At last, exhausted, Brigham handed off his mountain of packages to Austin and Trapper, who had taken the responsibility of transporting presents back to the house. They were at the last stop – a toy store – so the kids could spend some time looking around and dreaming before their parents came to get them.

_When I get home, I'm parking my rear in front of a Christmas flick with a plate of cookies and some hot cocoa, _he thought. _Heaven knows I earned it._

"Uncle Brigham, come quick!"

He dashed down the aisle to where Emma stood, pointing earnestly at an item just out of her reach.

"Can I buy one of those?" she asked.

"No, sweetie, but you can put it on your Christmas list," Brigham replied, relieved that there hadn't been an actual emergency.

"I don't want it for me," she replied. "I wanna get it for Darth Vader."

"You mean Anakin?"

"Yeah." She beamed up at him. "I think it's perfect for him."

Brigham stared at the object, not sure whether to be amused or puzzled at her choice. "That?"

"Uh-huh."

"Exactly that one?"

"Yup."

"For Mr. Skywalker."

"Yup."

"For Christmas."

"Yup."

"Ah." He examined the item again. It wouldn't have been his first choice of gifts for the man. In fact, it probably wouldn't have been in the top thousand. It probably ranked somewhere at the bottom of the list.

"Can I ask why you want to get that for him?"

She tugged on his pant leg, a signal for him to get on his knees. He crouched down and cocked his head to let her whisper in his ear.

When she finished explaining, she grinned at him again. "So can I get it for him? Huh?"

Brigham took a moment to respond, feeling a strange teary sensation in his eyes. "Of course, Emma. I can see why that would be a great gift for him." He gently removed it from the shelf.

"Yay!" She grabbed the item out of his hands and hugged it close. "I wanna wrap it myself when we get home!"

"Here." He wrapped it securely in his coat. "Now let's pay for it and round up your brothers and cousins."

He couldn't help feeling just a little jealous that she'd thought of the gift first. But then, he probably wouldn't have thought of it at all, being an adult. Children had a unique perspective of things. And they never ceased to amaze him with their insights.

_Break…_

"And Merry Christmas, Mr. Skywalker!" Santa boomed heartily as Anakin passed the man. "Have you been good this year?"

"Mr. Claus, you know I haven't," Anakin retorted with a chuckle.

The white-bearded gentleman laughed. "Take care, sir."

Anakin made his way to the mall's food court, pausing to buy an Orange Julius before beginning his search for Opal. The girl had a talent for making herself invisible when she wanted to be left alone – which was much of the time. Poor girl. It wasn't enough for her to be the wallflower of the family – she had to be the outcast as well.

At last he found her at a table in the far corner, nibbling on something out of a Panda Express box and typing furiously on a laptop computer. Three plastic shopping bags sat next to her chair. So she'd finished her shopping as well. He envied her.

"May I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the seat across from her.

"Huh? Oh, go ahead."

"What are you working on?" he asked, settling down.

"Book," she replied shortly, as if trying to cut off any conversation before it had a chance to take root.

"What kind of book?"

She looked up at him, wearing an expression of total disbelief. "You really want to know?"

"Of course." He wondered when anyone had last expressed interest in any of her projects.

"It's a historical fantasy," she said, an edge of enthusiasm creeping into her voice. "There are these two soldiers fighting on the island of Iwo Jima in World War II. One's an American boy, the other's Japanese, which makes them enemies. But in the heat of the battle, they tangle in hand-to-hand combat and they're drawn through a rift in space and into a parallel reality…"

He listened intently, enthralled, as she described how these two soldiers had to work together to fend off the dangers of said alternate world, which was as fraught with perils as any battlefield. An eccentric but powerful sorcerer and a mysterious, beautiful woman aided them in their struggles, but for the most part they had to survive and seek a way back to their reality on their own. And as if that weren't enough, Opal had added another layer of intrigue – a hideously wicked magician had created the rift and plotted to take advantage of Earth's instability to invade.

"I haven't got the ending written yet," she confessed. "But you know it has to end somewhat happily, since Earth was never taken over by a black sorcerer during World War II."

"Unless you count Hitler," Anakin replied. "That's a wonderful story, Opal. I'd certainly read a book like that."

"Really?"

"Yes. You should submit it for publication."

A look of terror crossed her face. "NO! I dunno… I mean… it's not that good…"

"Not that good? Opal, you need to have a little faith in yourself. You'll never know if your work's publication-worthy unless you submit it."

She still hesitated.

"I can see that this story's important to you," he went on. "You've probably done a great deal of research for it and worked hard on it. But I'm sure others would like to see the fruits of your labors."

"I know…" she deferred. "It's just… what if no one likes it?"

He smiled and reached across the table to take her hand. "I'll tell you what, Opal. I've been thinking of having an autobiography published. Unfortunately, my talents lie in areas other than writing. Could I hire you as a ghostwriter?"

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes. You'll be paid well for your services. And perhaps having some work of yours actually in print will give you the courage you need to submit your other stories."

She nodded. "I'd like that a lot. When can we get started?"

He laughed gently. "After the holidays. For now, perhaps we figure out how this WWII historical fantasy is going to end?"

"Okay."

Some time later, after she'd packed up her laptop and they'd gone their separate ways, he stopped at a final store to pick something up. Talking with Opal had given him an idea.

_Break…_

Luke spent just a moment listening to the musicians performing on the street corner before moving on. The three Kings, Wise Men, Magi, whatever they were called – yet another Christmas tradition that he had yet to investigate. From what he'd been told, they were the holy men who had visited Christ as a baby, but that was all he knew.

Then again, he wasn't here to investigate the holiday, tempting as that option was. At least he'd actually get somewhere in that search, even if it wasn't exactly productive.

He'd spent the day walking through the streets of Salt Lake, questioning anyone he thought could be a likely source of information – police officers, vagrants, gang members, teenage punks, bartenders, anyone who might have an ear tuned for what was going on under the radar. So far, the only promising bit of information he'd acquired was that the local troublemakers were frustrated that some "outer-space" gang was invading their turf. That and that Utah possessed rather bizarre liquor laws.

That "outer-space" gang sounded like Black Sun to Luke – especially when a young homeless woman had taken him into a back alley and shown him some suspicious-looking gang graffiti. The flaming black orb gracing the brick wall there was suspiciously reminiscent of Black Sun's insignia. According to the woman, blaster-toting offworlders had been leaving marks like this throughout the city, roughing up any who got in their way. She herself had encountered them no less than three times, though she'd been lucky enough to avoid injury so far.

"Any idea where I can go from here?" he'd asked her, not really expecting an answer.

To his surprise she'd directed him to Utah's Main Street, telling him to be there at three o'clock sharp if he wanted hard evidence. She wouldn't state where she'd gotten her information, and she finished her advice with a frantic "You didn't hear it from me!" before bolting.

Luke turned a corner to find himself on Salt Lake City's Main Street. A wrought-iron arch with a soaring eagle curved over the street. He checked his wrist-chrono – two fifty-seven. He'd made it on time. Now to see if that young woman's information panned out.

Right on schedule a Rodian strolled down the street, pausing beneath the arch and pretending to leaf through a "Salt Lake Tribune." He was heavily bundled in a worn jeans jacket – too heavily bundled. It looked to Luke as if he had objects stuffed up his sleeves.

Two other offworlders joined him, trying too hard to act nonchalant. One was a human woman, her hair styled in a classic Corellian braid and a cybernetic enhancer over one eye. The other was an emaciated, almost skeletal Trandoshan with vibrant blue scales. He leaned over and hissed something to the Rodian, and the woman pulled a small holoprojector from her pocket. A miniaturized image of the eagle arch materialized from the projector.

Luke figured now was the time to act. He pulled the hood of his jacket up and inched closer, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation.

"…gonna have a helluva time gettin' them on it," the Rodian grumbled.

"Shuddup," the woman ordered. "We aren't getting paid to gripe."

"Gonna need two for that one," the Trandoshan observed. "One on each side. We'll do it at night when no one's looking. We'll need Shaggy's help – the Wookie's used to climbing."

"We're already using five on the temple," the woman pointed out. "We'll run out before we have them all planted!"

"I can always get more," the Rodian volunteered. "My supplier's got plenty."

It didn't take much imagination to figure out just what they were planning to plant. Luke stepped forward, flashing a Republic badge.

"Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker," he announced. "Sorry to break up this party, but I'm afraid you're all under arrest."

The woman hurriedly flicked off the holo, and the three of them glared at him threateningly.

"What are you doing here?" snarled the Trandoshan.

"Why else?" the Rodian snapped. "He found that street trash. I told you we should've snuffed her and shut her up instead of paying her off!"

"Shut up!" the woman growled.

"He's free to talk all he wants," Luke assured her. "But he also has the right to remain silent."

The look in all three of their eyes was quite obvious – they knew they outnumbered him three to one. If they could overpower him, they could escape.

Obviously they'd never taken on a Jedi.

The Trandoshan came at him first, claws extended. Luke grabbed both bony wrists with his hands and drove his foot into his gut. The reptilian alien collapsed, wheezing, and he released him to fend off the attack of the other two. Dodging the Rodian's knife-hand, he seized the alien's collar and flung him into the wall, then drew his lightsaber and slashed back and to the right, cutting the woman's drawn blaster in half. A well-placed blow to her knee knocked her down.

Sirens ripped through the air, and two police cruisers shrieked to a halt close by. He extinguished his blade and assisted the officers in cuffing and searching the dazed gangsters.

"Master Jedi, I think you should see this."

One officer had stripped the Rodian of his coat, and Luke could now see the bags of deadly ion charges strapped to his arms and torso. He was wearing enough explosives to demolish an entire city block.

"I'll handle the explosives," he informed the officer, untying the bags. "Take him down to the station. I'll be down to question him after I dispose of these."

"Yes, sir."

The cruisers departed. Luke peered into one bag with an involuntary shiver. Black Sun's intentions were lethally clear now.


	6. Solving the Santa Debate

**Chapter 6 – Solving the Santa Debate**

"They're all books, aren't they?" Austin asked as Anakin straightened up from putting his gifts beneath the tree. "The shape of the package gives it away."

"Yes, they're books," he replied. "I don't know how I managed it, but I found a satisfactory gift for everyone on my list in a bookstore." He lowered his voice slightly so the others wouldn't hear him. "I found a fantasy novel called 'Eragon' that Hyrum's oldest son should appreciate, and I thought Liberty would enjoy the astrology book."

"And Opal? I understand she's hard to buy for."

"'The 2005 Writer's Market,'" he replied. "It's a guide for getting published. She can use a little push in that direction."

"Ah." Austin glanced back under the tree, where his own gifts were clustered together. "I didn't have as good of luck. I mean, I hardly know Brigham's family."

"Who's name did you draw?"

"Lydia, Felix, and Liberty." He smiled. "Liberty was easy – almost too easy, actually. I eventually settled for a cookbook and a tie for the others. Not really exciting, I'm afraid."

"They'll know you at least gave it your best shot," Anakin assured him.

"I'd appreciate some help in the kitchen, boys," Mrs. Pratt announced, appearing in the doorway of the living room.

"Aw Mom," whined Felix, making a big production of putting down the box he was wrapping and getting off the couch.

"Don't 'aw Mom' me," she chided. "You're the one who invited the picky eaters over. Cooking Christmas dinner's tough enough without having to account for a vegetarian and a diabetic."

"Just be glad Liz and Boba didn't come," Austin told her. "You'd have to stick to kosher too."

She smiled as her sons slumped out of the room, grumbling in exaggerated tones. "I really don't mind cooking something special for your girlfriend's tastes. I just have to find a way to get the boys to pitch in."

"I'd be happy to help," Liberty volunteered, standing. "It's my vegetarian meal you're cooking, after all."

"I can help as well," Anakin offered.

"Count me in," Austin chimed in.

"Well, I don't think I've had this many helping hands in a long time!" Mrs. Pratt exclaimed. "Let's see, Brigham and Judy can make biscuits, Felix and Hyrum are in charge of a salad… why don't you help me with the squash pie, Liberty? Austin, you can help Jacob with the turkey if you like. Anakin…" She thought a long moment. "Will you help Grandma Alzina get the tables arranged?"

"Certainly."

It was Christmas Eve at last, and the entire household was being put to work readying the house for the big day. Whoever wasn't wrapping gifts was put to work on dinner, and loud clangs, rattles, and shouts of dismay issued from the kitchen at regular intervals. People went charging from room to room carrying casserole dishes or rolls of ribbon, yelling things like "It never fails – we always run out of tape on Christmas Eve!" or "Well, why can't we just have one fork at every place at the table this year?" And to top it off, the kids were constantly underfoot, bursting with excitement and belting out Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. Cody seemed to feed off their energy and had to be reprimanded several times for egging them on.

"Sing along with me, kids!" he encouraged, waving a gravy ladle about like a conductor's baton. "'Grandma got run over by a reindeer, walking home from our house Christmas Eve…'"

"If you want to find out what size shoe your backside takes, Sonny, just sing a few more lines of that!" Alzina screeched.

"Shutting up," he replied meekly.

"For ten seconds, maybe," Brigham murmured.

Anakin just shook his head and went back to setting plates on the table. Adults ate in the dining room; a card table would be set up in the kitchen for the children once the dinner preparations were over. And there was one other noticeable difference between the grown-up table and the kids' table – the dining room table was set with the family's good china and crystal; the kids got plastic dishes and cups.

"Last year the kids had a food war, and someone got to throwing the dishes," Alzina explained to Anakin. "We had to make a Christmas trip to the emergency room so London could get stitches in his chin, poor boy."

"And we've learned our lesson this year, have we?" Anakin said dryly.

She laughed and made the laborious journey around the table, carefully arranging the silverware and napkins to her liking. "It's good to have another mature adult in the house, Mr. Skywalker," she told him. "Especially since I lost my Heber this spring."

"I'm sorry, Alzina," he told her. "I hope he didn't suffer."

"His heart was going for years. But he was a good sport about life all the way to the end. A week before he died he told us all that his one big regret was that he wasn't going to have an opportunity to see 'Revenge of the Sith.'"

Anakin couldn't help a hearty laugh. "What a character! He would have fit right in with Brigham's friends, I'm sure."

"Oh, he and Brigham would talk for hours about those movies!" she reminisced. "We'd practically have to drag them into the kitchen to eat and even then they wouldn't stop talking!" She was silent a moment, staring at a salad fork with a fond expression as if it were a priceless memento. "Of all the grandchildren, I think Brigham took it the hardest when Heber died."

Anakin gave Alzina a gentle hug about the shoulders. "I don't know exactly what your family's religion believes occurs after death, but I feel comfortable assuring you that Heber's in a good place now, and that he still loves you very much."

She smiled. "That's sweet, Mr. Skywalker. And I do believe you're right on the money."

There was a loud crash and a cross expletive from the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Pratt's shocked gasp and Liberty's stern "Shut your filthy mouth, Austin!" Cody launched into an off-key rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming To Town" as if confident that music was the cure for any unpleasant situation. At least his bawling partially drowned out Austin and Liberty's subsequent argument.

"Ah yes, it's the most wonderful time of the year!" Clinton said in an exasperated tone, plunking the salad bowl in the middle of the table. "Darth – sorry – Anakin, do me a favor next and tell my brother-in-law not to invite the weirdo next year."

"Hey, it's not my fault our fearless leader dropped the green bean casserole all over the kitchen floor," Cody protested.

"Yay, he dropped the yucky stuff!" cheered Lexus. "That means we don't have to eat it this year!"

"Don't worry, we've got a really yucky backup vegetable planned just in case something like this happened," Clinton told his daughter. "Canned spinach!"

"Eww!" she shrieked.

The front door opened, and Xizor entered the house, shaking fresh snow from his sleeves.

"So we'll have a white Christmas after all," Ruth noted, giving Xizor a peck on the cheek.

"Two inches already," he told her, returning the kiss. "And no sign of it stopping."

Cody at least had the tact to turn his back on the couple before engaging in an over-the-top retching motion.

"I stopped to get some holos of the Christmas lights on Temple Square," Xizor went on, "but you can't get within a hundred meters of it. Security's been upped considerably tonight."

"What's wrong?" asked Mr. Pratt. "Was there a terrorist threat?"

"I'm not sure," Xizor replied. "Maybe we should turn on the news…"

"No need," Luke announced, striding through the front door with a hard expression on his face. Anakin stared, amazed and considerably worried. What could have made his normally good-natured son so angry?

"I know exactly why there's extra security," Luke went on in a cold voice. "Because I ordered that extra security to be placed."

Dead silence was the reply. Even Cody and the children were quiet.

"Black Sun is responsible for many crimes in this city," Luke explained. "But the worst is yet to come. I've uncovered enough information to suspect that Black Sun has planned an attack on the headquarters of the LDS church and will carry out those plans in the very near future."

Muffled cries and stunned exclamations met his statement.

"They're gonna blow up the temple, Daddy?!" wailed Emma.

"Go wash your hands and get to the table, kids!" Hyrum announced, herding the children in the direction of the bathroom.

"No, no, I wanna hear the rest of it!" Gideon protested. "Let me stay!"

"Stay, stay!" repeated Wendy, though the night's dramatic revelation had gone directly over her head.

"Why do we always have to leave when interesting stuff happens?" grumbled Trapper.

Once the kids were out of earshot, Hyrum turned back to Luke. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I wouldn't joke about something of this magnitude, Hyrum," Luke replied.

"What did we ever do to them anyhow?" demanded Felix. "It's not like our church is big competition for the crime world, is it?"

Anakin kept a careful eye on Xizor's reaction. To his surprise, the man looked as shocked as everyone else. Was he truly a changed man and loyal to the Mormon church? Or was his astonishment faked? If he was still heading Black Sun, he'd have to keep a convincing front, so Anakin couldn't be entirely sure whether his reaction was legitimate or not.

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Austin.

"The only thing we can do," Luke replied. "Preventive maintenance. During flu season, don't you make sure you have your flu vaccinations and take extra sanitary precautions? That's all we can do against Black Sun's sickness – strengthen our defenses and take extra precautions when allowing absolutely anyone near Temple Square."

"I got a better idea," Cody snarled, pointing accusingly at Xizor. "Don't just get the flu shot – find the source of the disease and destroy it! Xizor's the head of this sick little operation! Why don't you arrest him and haul his stinking carcass off our planet?!"

"He's not like that!" Ruth defended. "He's changed! Can't you accept that he's no longer the bad guy?"

"Sorry, princess, but I'm not the one that's too smitten by his charms and pheromones to see straight," he retorted. "If you'd jerk your head down out of the clouds long enough to…"

"Leave my sister out of this!" Brigham ordered, veins standing out on his forehead.

"Enough, you two!" Mrs. Pratt demanded. "It's Christmas Eve. Let's have a little peace in this household."

"Hate to break it to you, lady, but Black Sun operatives don't hold off terrorist attacks on account of national holidays," Cody shot back.

"Oh-ho, you're gonna mouth off to my mom too?" Brigham said angrily.

"I'm not mouthing off!" protested Cody. "I'm just stating some facts! And just because the whole bunch of you are too blinded by the green guy's charms to know the truth if it sat on you…"

There was a sharp thwack and a horrified gasp as Brigham's fist met Cody's nose, cutting off whatever he had to say next.

"Brigham!" exclaimed Anakin.

"Don't… insult… my… family… again," Brigham said in a deadly tone, ignoring Anakin.

"You broke by dose!" Cody squealed, clamping a hand over his wounded face in an effort to stem the bleeding.

"Oh chill, it's not broken," Liberty chided, grabbing a fistful of tissues and going to help him. "It's just a little nosebleed."

Xizor turned to Mr. Pratt. "I'm deeply sorry for all this. I had no idea my presence would cause such friction." He gave a sad little smile. "Perhaps next year I'll be welcome?"

"I can guarantee that," Mr. Pratt replied, glowering at Cody. "Because I don't think someone else is ever going to be invited back."

"He clobbers be and I'b de one dat gets kicked out?" Cody protested, his blocked nose hampering his speech somewhat. "How fair's dat?"

Needless to say, it was a very tense Christmas dinner that evening. Brigham and Cody's relationship had degraded from each of them glaring at the other to each simply ignoring the other's very existence. Ruth had gone straight to her bedroom without even eating, and Opal bolted her dinner as fast as she could before leaving the table, no doubt to find some corner to hide in. Mrs. Pratt tried to start some conversation going, but when her attempts were met with nervous or stony silence she gave up.

"Anakin, dell Brigham do pass de salad," Cody requested.

"Anakin, tell Cody I'll pass the salad when he apologizes for his remarks toward my sister and mom," Brigham replied tartly.

"Austin, kindly inform Brigham and Cody that they are being grossly immature and that if I were them, I'd be absolutely ashamed of my behavior," Anakin replied.

"Everyone kindly field your own remarks at this table," Mr. Pratt demanded.

"This is all my fault," Luke said at last. "I shouldn't have told any of you what I knew. I'm sorry."

"Don't beat yourself up," Hyrum replied. "This isn't your doing. It's the fault of a couple of guys who can't keep their mouths or tempers in check."

Brigham flushed, aware that his brother was blaming him every bit as much as he was blaming Cody.

Anakin began clearing plates off the table, wondering what in the galaxy had gotten into his friends that they were acting so rudely to each other. He hated to think that their arrival here would permanently damage friendships. Yet at the rate things were going, this holiday would likely end in severed ties of some form.

He caught Xizor's eye – and was startled to see a smug look on the Falleen's face. Was Xizor orchestrating the division of Brigham's family? For what purpose? The Pratts were hardly influential people on their homeworld. And even if he loved Ruth as much as he claimed to, why would he be attempting to destroy her family?

Handing the last of the dishes to Lydia, he retreated to the living room to think.

-------

"G-5," announced Christopher.

"Miss," Lexus replied. "B-2."

"NO!" Christopher screamed. "You sunk my submarine!"

"You two keep it down," hissed Trapper. "If the adults hear us…"

"Too late," moaned Gideon as Xizor opened the door a crack.

"Your parents say to settle down and go to sleep," the handsome alien informed the kids. "Santa Claus won't come if you're still awake."

Gideon snorted. "I keep telling these babies that there's no such thing as Santa."

"Is too!" Emma cried.

"Shut up, Gideon!" Trapper told his friend. "I don't really believe in Santa anymore either, but that doesn't mean the other kids can't believe."

"I think it's lying to tell them things that aren't true," Gideon replied.

"Santa's not gonna come to you for not believing in him," London told him.

"Oh grow up," Gideon retorted. "I stopped believing when I was younger than you."

"He's entitled to his opinion too, young man," Xizor told him.

"Don't tell me you believe that Santa crap," Gideon demanded.

Xizor shrugged. "I know I've met a lot of unusual people in my life. A plump bearded man who wears red and rides in a flying sleigh delivering gifts would not be the most outlandish person I've ever come across."

"Maybe Santa's a Jedi," suggested Emma. "That's how he does all the magic things he can do."

"Even Santa's not fifteen hundred years old," Gideon retorted.

"Maybe he hands the responsibility down whenever he gets too old," London added. "Like the Dread Pirate Roberts in 'Princess Bride.'"

"I still think he's just a big fake!" Gideon declared.

"That's just fine," Xizor told him. "You can believe what you wish. But maybe…" He looked outside before speaking to the children in a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe what you need is proof."

"Proof?" repeated Trapper.

"Yes. Santa Claus comes tonight. Perhaps if you could see him with your own eyes, you would know the truth."

"Sounds good," Gideon replied. "Then I could prove to everyone that there's no such thing as Santa."

"Yay!" Emma cried. "We can see Santa! Wendy, you wanna see Santa Claus?"

"See Santa! See Santa! Wanna see Santa!" she squealed.

"I dunno, guys," Trapper said warily. "We could get in big trouble if the grownups see us…"

"Then we go out the back door where the grownups can't see us," Lexus replied. "It'll just be for a few minutes."

"Are you in or out, Trapper?" demanded Gideon.

He hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. "In."

"Grab your coats," Gideon ordered. "Let's go."

Xizor's satisfied smile was missed by the children in their scramble to grab coats and jackets. "Anakin and your grandmother are in the living room. I'll occupy them while you go."

"Thanks," said Gideon.

The children slipped out, carefully tiptoeing past the living room where Xizor was attempting to bid Anakin and Alzina goodnight and getting a rather cold response. Their slippered feet shuffled across the kitchen floor as Gideon led the way to the door. He eased it open, shivering as a chill wind pushed flakes of snow into the house.

"Man, it's really snowing, isn't it?" Trapper noted.

"It's like a blizzard," London said with a shiver. "Maybe we should blow this off, Gideon…"

"No way," he retorted. "We said we were going to settle the whole Santa Claus debate, and we're gonna do it. C'mon, everyone."

They ducked out.

--------

Luke was counting out bills to pay the cab driver when a sudden, nameless chill of apprehension seized him. He glanced up sharply, probing with the Force. Whatever had just happened, he needed to be back at the Pratt house – fast.

"Back to the house," he told the driver, throwing open the door and jumping in.

"Look pal, this had better be important," the cabbie replied grouchily. "The roads are getting bad, and I don't want to risk a wreck."

"And this is your last round before going home to your family for Christmas Eve, I understand," Luke replied. "But this is an emergency. Trust me."

He scowled. "Very well. Guess I don't have much choice, do I?"

Crystal flakes of snow pummeled the taxi as it pulled away from the curb and back into the night. Luke watched the crystal blizzard silently, wondering whether Xizor had brought harm upon the Pratts while he was gone. He hoped he wouldn't arrive too late to correct the damage.


	7. A Deadly Plot

**Chapter 7 – A Deadly Plot**

Anakin could not settle down. He paced restlessly across the living room, pausing every so often to stare out the window, where the world was rapidly being blanketed in white. Something felt very wrong, yet he couldn't place the source of his unease.

"Mr. Skywalker, you make me nervous just looking at you," Alzina informed him, looking up from her cross-stitching. "What's wrong?"

"Ever since Xizor left, something's felt… off," he replied. "I can't put my finger on it."

"You're probably still antsy from the boys' little spat," she assured him.

"It isn't that," he countered. "I pray that Luke isn't in danger."

Mr. Pratt walked inside, brushing off his snow-crusted sleeves. "It's late, you two. You might want to turn in."

"Mr. Pratt, check on everyone," Anakin told him.

He stared. "Why?"

"Just do it. Your wife, your daughter, Austin and Liberty, the children, everyone. Something is wrong. I sense it."

He stared a minute longer before moving off.

"Don't think he believed you," Alzina noted.

Cody entered a few minutes behind Mr. Pratt, sporting a rather spectacular bruise across the bridge of his nose from his "aggressive negotiations" with Brigham earlier.

"How was Christmas Mass?" asked Alzina.

"Didn't go," Cody replied. "Went to confession instead." He flopped down into the recliner with a sigh. "I feel rotten for what I said to Ruth and Brigham today. I just wish I could fix it somehow."

"A lot of things were said in the heat of the moment today," Alzina told him. "I'm sure once things cool down, you'll find yourself back in good graces."

"I can only hope…" began Cody.

Mr. Pratt appeared in the living room doorway, a look of fright on his face. "The children are gone!"

"What?" Alzina and Cody exclaimed, shooting to their feet simultaneously. Alzina's stitching fell to the floor in an untidy heap.

"They're gone! Austin's boy, Judy's twins, Hyrum's kids, they're not in their room!"

"Calm down, Mr. Pratt," Cody told him. "Maybe they just snuck out of bed and are planning to spy on Santa Claus."

"All the same, let's organize a search," Anakin replied, taking charge instinctively. "Mr. Pratt, wake up the others. Cody, check the basement. I'll start upstairs."

Within minutes the formerly quiet house was a circus as the adults tore the place apart searching for the children. Closets and cabinets were opened and emptied, furniture shifted around, bedrooms ransacked. Not a sign of the children could be found – and even worse, a check by Lydia showed that their coats were missing.

"You don't think they could've gone outside, do you?" asked a half-hysterical Judy.

"Not likely," Felix replied. "Someone would have noticed them, wouldn't they?"

"When's the last time anyone saw the kids?" demanded Austin. "Who saw them?"

"Xizor, I think," Ruth offered. "He stuck his head in their room an hour ago to tell them to keep the noise down…"

"I told you! I TOLD YOU!" Cody shrieked, shaking a fist at Ruth. "I told you that snake was up to no good! And now he's run off with the kids! So much for changing his tune, eh?"

"Enough about Xizor!" cried Mr. Pratt. "You have no proof he did anything!"

"I don't have any proof that he's the born-again man he's now claiming to be, do I?" countered Cody.

"He's changed!" Ruth screamed at him. "He's done a lot of good things and tried to make amends for all the bad he did! He's repented! Why can't you accept that? He's a good man now!"

"Oh, so just 'cause the lizard's talking about converting to Mormonism, you're gonna blow his whole rotten past off?" Cody retorted.

"Men can change, Cody," Brigham told him angrily, going to stand beside his sister. "God forgives sins. And if Xizor is truly converted to the Lord, his past is absolved."

"I don't believe this!" Cody cried, throwing his hands in the air. "He's the slimiest crime lord in the galaxy and you sing his praises as if he were a saint!"

"Shut up!" screamed Opal, storming forward to stand between Brigham and Cody. "Shut up all of you! I'm sick of this!"

Anakin, who had been on the verge of shouting himself, closed his mouth and stared at Opal – quiet, shy, mousy Opal who wouldn't have had the guts to give anyone the time of day an hour ago. But this was a transformed Opal, one whose pale-gray eyes flashed like lightning and whose fair skin was pink with rage.

"Opal, stay out of this…" began Brigham.

"You shut up!" she shouted. "Stop this, all of you! I've put up with this ridiculous argument all week, but this is the last straw! How can you turn on your best friend and ridicule his family, Cody? And how can you reject your friend to defend a criminal, even a reformed one, Brigham?" She turned to the others, eyes still glinting. "How can ANY of you choose Xizor over one of your own family?"

"We've never put Xizor over the family…" protested Felix.

"And what am I, the next-door neighbor?!" cried Opal, fists clenched.

That wiped the indignant looks off everyone's faces.

"And it's been this way ever since Vance died," she fumed, three years worth of bottled-up grief and anger exploding out of her mouth. "I went through Hell three years ago. I'd lost my fiancé, I'd lost faith in the God I'd believed in all my life, and I needed the family to help me through. But you all turned your backs on me when I needed you most. Not once did I get so much as a letter, a card, a picture of my nephews or nieces! Only Brigham had the good Christian decency to speak to me. And when I did show up at reunions or family functions, the only attention I ever got was pressure to rejoin the church.

"And then this… creature shows up. He charms Ruth, sweet-talks her parents, and mentions something about wanting to learn more about the church. All of a sudden, he's practically family! He gets invited over for Christmas, he gets attention showered on him… and what do I get?" She jabbed a finger at Anakin. "He's the only one who showed any interest in me this week! Do you have any idea how much it tortures me to see that my own family values Prince Xizor over me!"

"Opal, we…" Clinton protested lamely.

"You do," she hissed. "As far as I can see, you wrote me out of your lives the minute you found out I'd left the church."

Anakin's heart ached for the girl. He stepped forward and took her in his arms as she broke down into agonized sobs. She had indeed suffered much at the hands of those who should have been her closest friends. And witnessing the attention lavished on Xizor had only served to twist the knife deeper.

"She's right," Anakin said sternly, leveling a humbling gaze on everyone. "Everyone has had their priorities distorted. Xizor has taken higher priority to you than a member of your own family. And tonight, when children are in possible danger, you all choose to argue over the presumed innocence or guilt of a former crime lord instead of acting to find them."

After a long, shameful silence, Liberty finally spoke up. "What do we do now?"

"If no one objects," Felix said quietly, "I think we could use a prayer right now."

Anakin waited for someone to veto the suggestion, but to the group's credit everyone murmured assent. Brigham volunteered to give it, and everyone respectfully lowered their heads.

"Our Father, which art in heaven, we come before thee at this desperate hour…"

While he pleaded with his family's deity for aid in finding the children and protecting them until they could be located, Anakin drifted into meditation. He extended his senses, seeking the presences of the children. They weren't in the immediate vicinity… wait. There was one close to the house, accompanied by…

As soon as Brigham said "Amen," the front door was flung open. Luke was ushering in a shivering, ghostly-pale Gideon.

"Gideon!" screamed Lydia, throwing her arms around him.

"He almost walked right in the path of our cab," Luke told them. "He's pretty badly chilled and disoriented."

Anakin snatched a blanket from the children's room and threw it around Gideon, bundling him up closely to warm him up. The boy trembled uncontrollably and couldn't seem to stop gabbling.

"Help me!" he cried. "You gotta help me find them! It's all my fault! I shouldn't have teased them about Santa! Somebody help!"

"Slow down, Gideon," Anakin told him firmly. "Where are the others?"

"I dunno… it's all my fault… let me go, I gotta find them…"

He placed his hands on Gideon's temples, releasing the Force into his panic-clouded mind to calm him. "Relax, Gideon. You're safe now. Tell us where the other children are."

It took a few minutes, but they finally got out of him that they'd all finally decided to settle the does-Santa-exist-or-not debate once and for all, that they'd snuck outside to watch him arrive, and that they'd gotten separated in the snowstorm. He couldn't stop blaming himself for what had happened, but somehow Anakin go the feeling that it hadn't been entirely the children's idea to spy on Santa.

A strange expression came over Ruth's face all of a sudden, and she turned and went upstairs. Her departure went largely unnoticed.

"Austin, call the police," Luke ordered. "Everyone else, we need flashlights, jackets, a first-aid kit, blankets. Let's divide and conquer, search the neighborhood. They can't have gone far."

"I can fit four people in my car," Felix volunteered.

"Our van'll hold seven," Mr. Pratt offered.

"Maybe it would be best if a few people went on foot," Cody pointed out. "It's too easy to miss something when you're in a car…"

Ruth's piercing shrieks tore through the house. Brigham charged up the stairs, Anakin just steps behind him.

"Ruth, what is it…" began Brigham, flinging open her door.

She was in a state of near hysteria, sobbing and screaming and staring at something cupped in her hand. A handwritten note lay upon the bedcovers. Anakin picked up the message and scanned it while Brigham went to comfort his sister.

_Ruth, I thank you for your friendship and hospitality. It has made it all the easier for my plan to go forth. It is with great regret that I must terminate our relationship. I'm sorry to end it this way – I was truly beginning to grow fond of you. But it is for the best – what with your religious beliefs, you wouldn't have made a suitable mistress. Also, my baptism will have to be canceled. After tonight, I doubt your church will be in much of a condition to accept new converts. _

"Anakin!" Brigham exclaimed, obviously stunned.

He looked up. Brigham was holding up the object that had driven Ruth into hysterics – the CTR medallion and chain Xizor had taken to wearing. But the shield no longer depicted the "choose the right" acronym.

Emblazoned in black, obliterating the letters entirely, was the flaming-orb insignia of Black Sun.

-----

Flashes of blue and red from the lights of the police cruisers illuminated the snowy night. Alongside the glossy black and white cruisers parked before the Pratt's house were dull green and tan military vehicles. The spectacle had attracted the astonished stares of the entire neighborhood.

Inside the house, Luke addressed a cluster of officers and National Guardsmen.

"…the entirety of Temple Square and a mile radius around it," he ordered. "Every man, woman, and child must be evacuated. No exceptions."

"Right, Master Jedi," replied the chief of police.

"Meanwhile, keep an eye out for the kids. We don't have positive proof that Xizor abducted them, but we'll take no chances."

"Will any effort be made to disarm the bombs?" demanded a Guardsman.

"We have no idea how many explosives there are, when they're set to go off, or even if they can be disarmed," Luke replied. "All possible efforts will be made to acquire this information and act on it – but it will be handled by a qualified Republic expert. Earth's responsibility is to protect its people."

"Yes, sir."

Once they had departed, Luke turned to the others. "You can all keep searching for the children. Just stay out of the evacuation zone."

"Just who is this 'expert' that's gonna defuse heaven-knows-how-many bombs scattered all over Salt Lake City?" exclaimed Austin.

Luke turned to Anakin. "You know what to do."

"Yes, sir," he replied with a mock salute. "Mr. Pratt, is there a vehicle I can borrow?"

"Uh…" Mr. Pratt was at a loss for words for a moment. "There's the Harley D…"

"That will do."

Luke watched gravely as the family scattered to begin their search and Anakin set off on his mission. So Cody had been right all along. Xizor had been behind this entire scheme. And not only had he goaded the children into putting themselves in danger, he had set a deadly plot into motion that could very well cripple Utah and shake the entire planet to its foundations.

He ducked out the door and plunged into the whiteness of the night. He had to find Xizor at all costs.


	8. Up in Smoke

**Chapter 8 – Up In Smoke**

Slush sprayed through the air as Anakin roared down the streets of Salt Lake on the borrowed motorcycle, his body low to cut wind resistance. An added advantage of clearing out this part of town – no traffic to dodge. He would be relatively unhampered on his mission.

He swung the Harley to the side and stopped just before the Tabernacle. To a casual observer, it was merely a domed edifice where the famed choir performed regularly. But Anakin spotted what most others would miss – a disturbance in the snowed-over soil in one of its front flowerbeds. He knelt before the spot, pulled up a winter-blackened plant, and unearthed the first ion charge.

_Just as I thought – it's on a timer. And it's part of a master-chain cycle. _It was tricky to time explosives to detonate at the same instant, so many who used them keyed them to a master-chain cycle, where a single "master" bomb would send signals to the others, telling them when to ignite. If he was to interrupt the cycle, he would have to disarm the master bomb.

That begged the question – just where was the master bomb?

The illuminated spires of the Salt Lake Temple seemed to answer his question for him. He leaped aboard the motorcycle and was off once more.

Once on the actual temple grounds he strode through the lighted trees, keeping his senses peeled for anything out of the ordinary. This edifice was huge; an explosive could be anywhere! Stang, Xizor's men could have planted it on one of the spires where no one could reach it!

The Force stabbed through his thoughts with a warning, and he turned around. There was a stone bench behind him, and something beneath it gave a suspicious flash of reflected light.

"Xizor, you hired lazy slobs to do your work for you," he noted aloud, kneeling and prying the master bomb from the underside of the bench.

After examining the bomb in detail, he allowed himself to relax a little. The master was set to go off at two-thirty AM – in forty-five minutes. That gave him more than enough time to disarm the device. He drew out his tools from the Harley's sidecar and set to work.

---------

"Emma!" shouted Hyrum, plowing forward through the thickening storm. "Chris! Wendy! Where are you?"

"Trapper!" Austin cried. "I can't believe this is happening. I thought I'd lost him once. If I lose him for real this time…"

"You won't, Austin," Liberty told him fiercely. "We won't lose him!" She seemed to be trying to convince herself at the same time.

Mr. Pratt's van pulled up, and the passenger side window rolled down.

"No sign of them," Cody reported. "Any luck?"

"No," Hyrum replied in a strained voice.

Felix's car pulled up, almost hitting the van. Opal practically fell out the door trying to reach the others.

"Find anything?" asked Austin.

She bit her lip and held up an ice-encrusted pink Snow White slipper. Hyrum snatched it from her and examined it.

"Doesn't belong to any of my kids," he concluded. "Must be Lexus'."

"Where was it?" asked Cody.

"Down by Seagull Monument," she replied.

"Everyone in a vehicle!" shouted Austin. "Now!"

"Luke said to stay away from Temple Square!" Cody protested.

"I don't care! My son could be down there!" Austin bellowed. "Let's go now!"

-------

A veritable mob had gathered to witness what had to be the most exciting Christmas Eve ever in Salt Lake. There wasn't much to see – police, Guardsmen, and just-arrived Republic soldiers herding bewildered citizens out of the vicinity of Temple Square, empty streets, and concrete barricades. But the prospect of something happening on a galactic scale here was too tantalizing a concept for many people.

Once Luke was sure the planetary and Republic forces could handle the evacuation and blocking-off of the area without him, he set off at a sprint to find Xizor.

_How could anyone be so evil?_ he wondered. _To destroy a religion and half a city in the name of intimidation and wealth? What kind of monster would do or condone such a thing?  
_

A sudden premonition brought him to a sliding halt – Xizor was in Temple Square. So was his father. Xizor hated Anakin and now had him right where he wanted him.

This wasn't just a plot against the Mormons. This was an act of vengeance against the man who had once been Vader.

He ran for all he was worth, the frigid air searing his lungs as he panted for breath.

-------

Anakin disconnected a final wire, sealing the end to prevent a spark from detonating the device accidentally. There. The chain cycle had been broken. None of the other charges would go off. Now to disarm this one.

"Good work, Vader."

He leaped to his feet. "Xizor!"

The man strode easily down a lighted walkway, a smug smile on his face. His green skin was given a ghastly amber tint by the Christmas lights of the square. In place of the shield medallion, he now wore a pendant bearing the crest of Black Sun.

"So you couldn't resist playing the hero again, could you?" Xizor went on smoothly. "Even though it will now mean your death."

"No one will die today, Xizor," he replied. "The chain cycle has been disrupted. All the charges save this one have been deactivated, and I'm moments from disarming this one as well. Your plot against the church has failed."

Xizor's smile didn't fade. "Ah, the church's destruction would merely have been a token victory. True, it would have been simple for Black Sun to step in and absorb the church's wealth once its leaders and headquarters were gone, but even that gain would have been trivial. You, on the other hand, are a prize worth far more than some fanatical religion's assets."

"Forget your quest for vengeance, Xizor. I deeply regret destroying your family, but it is the past. Nothing you can do can alter it."

"Perhaps not, but your blood will be a fair price for their blood." A vibroblade slid out of his tunic sleeve.

Anakin extended his arm, and his tools hurled themselves out of the tool bag and at Xizor, pummeling him savagely. While the Falleen was distracted, he jumped back on the Harley and sped away. A deadly hum told him Xizor wasn't far behind – he'd had a speeder bike parked behind a hedge.

_What I wouldn't do to have my lightsaber back, _he thought, tearing around a curve.

Blasts of green light carved apart the asphalt around him as Xizor opened fire on his opponent. On impulse Anakin leaped from the Harley and hit the street, rolling to his feet in time to see a bolt catch the motorcycle's gas tank. The vehicle went airborne in a fiery conflagration, landing heavily on its side. The speeder bike had to veer wildly to avoid the blazing wreck.

An ominous beep alerted Anakin. He was still carrying the master bomb! And it was set to go off in ten minutes! He cast about for a place to dispose of it.

"And I thought you to be an intelligent man, Anakin," Xizor noted sarcastically, nodding at the ion charge. "It appears that if I wait a few more minutes, I'll have my vengeance."

"I'll be no Darwin Award winner today," Anakin informed him, and he flung the bomb through the darkened window of a nearby fast-food restaurant, spraying glass everywhere. It ricocheted off the register and landed with a clatter on the linoleum floor. Seconds later the wail of the franchise's security alarm filled the air.

"Not bad," Xizor acknowledged. "Not bad at all." He dismounted. "But you still have me to deal with."

"Xizor, let this end," Anakin ordered. "It's Christmas, for star's sake. Can there not be peace between us?"

"You actually buy that Earth garbage?" A cold laugh. "'Peace on Earth,' so the songs go. And while humanity preaches Peace on Earth, wars rage and murders are committed. Even the Pratts are at war with one another. Admit it, Anakin – peace is but a foolish dream, an unattainable goal. There has always been war in the galaxy, and until the stars burn out and the worlds crumble there will always be war."

"True, Xizor. There will always be conflict and war – so long as we let there be. But if we can let our differences go, if you can truly change and not pursue this ridiculous quest for vengeance, we're one step closer to abolishing war."

"Never," he snarled. "Not until you are dead at my feet. Only then will it end."

Xizor's foot caught him in the ribs. Fire exploded through his torso. He dropped to the ground and kicked Xizor's legs out from under him. As soon as he hit the ground Anakin grabbed for his arms, only for a knee in the gut to drive the wind from him.

_Father! _Luke was on his way.

_Don't come by yourself, Luke, _Anakin admonished. _Bring the police!_

_You don't think I'd come unprepared, do you?_

Sirens blared in the distance. Xizor grinned and drew his blade again, slashing for Anakin's throat. Anakin grabbed his weapon-arm and twisted, the blade clattering to the asphalt. Something snapped in the crime lord's wrist, and he gave a hoarse cry of pain.

"Give it up," Anakin advised. "The police are on their way. So is the Pratt family. Your plots have both failed."

Xizor's free arm came up, a blaster clutched in his claws. His face twisted into a mask of pain and rage as he jammed it into the intake vent of Anakin's mask.

"I didn't come this far to see you escape me now!" he hissed.

Anakin didn't reply, though a chuckle threatened to bubble out of his throat.

Gideon launched himself at Xizor, sinking his teeth in the alien's buttock.

Xizor' yowled in agony. The blaster jerked in his arm, and the bolt meant to kill Anakin went awry, blasting a crater in the sidewalk nearby. Before the crime lord could turn to rid himself of his attacker, the entire Pratt household was upon him, wrestling him off of Anakin. Even Alzina was there, whaling on the unfortunate Falleen with her handbag, all the while screeching words most unbecoming for a lady.

Luke ended up coming in last, and he and Austin hauled Anakin to his feet.

"You okay?" Austin demanded.

"I'm fine." He gestured to Gideon. "Thanks to his quick actions."

"He insisted on coming," Brigham told him. "Now I'm glad he did."

The police wrestled cuffs onto Xizor's wrists. Republic soldiers and National Guardsmen fanned out through the city in search of the ion charges. The Pratts pummeled both Anakin and Xizor with questions, demanding to know if either of them had any clue where the children might be.

"What did you do with my brother and sisters?" cried Gideon.

"How should I know, brat?" Xizor retorted.

"Father, the explosives," asked Luke. "Did you get them all?"

"All but one," Anakin replied.

"Well, where is it…" Luke began.

At that precise moment, the Dairy Queen nearby went up in a fountain of flame.

"Oooohh," breathed Cody. "Pretty. Get some marshmallows."

"Wow, awesome!" Gideon agreed.

"Not exactly blowing up the temple, is it, Xizor?" asked Mr. Pratt, smirking at the crime lord.

"Eat poodoo, Mr. Pratt," Xizor snarled. "You and your tramp of a daughter…"

"Oh, that reminds me," said Ruth, turning to Xizor with a sweet smile. "I forgot to give you your Christmas present."

"You're STILL in love with him?" shrieked Cody. "Of all the…"

"This is for playing with my heart," Ruth told Xizor, and she slapped him hard enough to rattle his brain. Everyone, even the police, broke out in cheers.

"Go girl!" shouted Liberty.

"This is for brainwashing my family," Brigham added. His fist collided solidly with Xizor's jaw.

"That's enough," Luke ordered. "I don't want to give him cause to sue for brutality…"

"Oh, can I give him my present next?" Cody asked. "Pretty please?"

"I thought you didn't want to give him a gift," Anakin teased.

"I just wanna tell him thanks," Cody told him, "for turning out to be the same rotten old crime lord as always so I didn't look like a complete idiot to everyone." And he planted a huge kiss on Xizor's cheek. From the look on the alien's face, Cody's action caused much more pain than either the slap or the punch.

"This isn't the end, Skywalker!" Xizor bellowed as he was shoved into the police cruiser. "We'll meet again, and this time you will suffer far more before I kill you!"

"And a merry Christmas to you too," Anakin replied.

-------

Brigham and Cody watched the police cruiser go.

"So he was still the same old Xizor," Brigham noted.

"Yup," Cody replied.

"You were right all this time."

"Yup." He had expected to feel some sort of triumph that he had been right all along, but curiously, all he felt was relief – relief that this part of the ordeal was over. And a healthy sense of regret, too, for the damage done to his relationship with Brigham. They'd been friends since the start of college, and thanks to Xizor's interference that friendship had pretty much been destroyed.

"Cody?"

"Yeah, Brig?"

"Look, I'm sorry…"

"Forget it."

"But I'm really…"

"Forget it." He forced a smile across his face. "Look, we were both jerks, okay? And we let our own egos come between us. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, Cody. I really do."

"Well, I forgive you too."

Brigham extended a hand. "Friends again?"

"Friends." He clasped the proffered hand. "At least until the next psycho villain who wants to join your church comes along."

Brigham laughed. "Don't worry; I think our family's done with trying to convert psycho villains."

Gideon's shouting attracted their attention, and the two of them jogged off to investigate.

-------

While the adults were busy dealing out blows to Xizor, Gideon found his attention mysteriously drawn to a bank nearby. In front of the building was a replica of a stable, no doubt used just hours before to reenact a live-action version of the nativity. A dark shape stirred inside the rough wooden structure – had a donkey or camel been left behind? Was a homeless person seeking shelter inside?

Gideon decided to check it out. He made sure his slippers were on snugly before shuffling across the icy street. It didn't take him long to realize that there were more shapes inside the stable than just the shadowy creature.

He broke into a run, losing his slippers on the way. Lying in the tiny building, bodies curled up in balls, were the other kids. For one terrifying moment he thought they were dead, but once he reached them he saw that they were only asleep, huddled together to share their warmth. Some Good Samaritan had covered each of them with a thermal cape, keeping them safe from the elements.

"Mom! Dad! Uncle Brigham! Everyone! I found them! They're okay…"

A snort cut him off, and he looked up to see the dark creature in the stable staring sleepily at him. He froze, puzzled.

The creature lay on its belly next to the other children as if using its body heat to keep them warm. Its huge brown eyes regarded him with an almost amused expression, and steam plumed out from its fur-lined nostrils.

_A reindeer? _What was a reindeer doing here? It must have escaped from some Christmas show. Things like that had happened before…

"Donner, up boy," a deep, soft voice ordered.

The deer slowly got to its feet, groaning in protest. It stepped delicately over the sleeping children and paced out to meet its master.

The man scratched its nose affectionately before smiling at Gideon. He had a kind face, with penetrating blue eyes and long, snow-white hair styled like Qui-gon Jinn's. His clothes were red, yes, but more resembled robes than a fur-lined suit. He thought he saw a lightsaber glinting at the old man's waist, but he couldn't be sure.

The man winked at Gideon, then led his beast away.

"Gideon!" shouted Dad. "You found them!"

The clamor of the adults shocked him out of his trance. Everyone was fussing over the other kids now, checking for any damage done by the cold, and plying them with questions. The only response they got was sleepy groans and requests to let them go back to sleep please.

"Gideon?" Luke knelt down before him. "You okay? You look a little stunned."

"Did you see him?" asked Gideon.

"See who? Xizor?"

"No, him…" But as he turned to point, he saw the man and the reindeer had vanished in the night. And the wind and snow had obliterated their tracks – if there were any to begin with.

"Are you sure you're all right, Gideon?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," he replied unsurely. "I'm fine."

But for the rest of his life Gideon Pratt would never be exactly sure just who – or what – he had seen that fateful night.


	9. Epilogue

**Chapter 9 – Epilogue: Christmas Day**

Forty pounds might not seem like a good deal of weight. At least, it doesn't until said forty pounds leaps full-force onto your chest while you're asleep.

"Hoof! Ouch! Emma!"

"Wake up, Mr. Skywalker! Wake up! It's Christmas morning!" She straddled his chest and peered into his eyes, exacerbating the situation by bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Emma, get off me," Anakin groaned.

"Wake up! It's Christmas! And Santa came last night!"

"While Santa was coming last night, I was all over town hunting for bombs and being clobbered by a bloodthirsty crime lord. Wake me up tomorrow morning." He rolled over and pulled the covers over his head.

But by now there were no less than three bodies bouncing on the hide-a-bed, clamoring for him to get up.

"Come on, Mom won't let us open presents until all the adults are up!" pleaded Christopher. "And you're the only adult still in bed."

With great reluctance he dragged himself out of bed. "Fine, but I'm taking a nap this afternoon, and you're not stopping me."

"Deal struck," Trapper said with a grin.

Gifts had been left for the children by the fireplace, mostly small toys and some candy. Each adult had received a box of chocolates, and these everyone indulged in happily.

"Anyone wanna trade a caramel for something with nuts?" asked Felix. "I hate caramels."

"Give 'em to the kids, they'll like them," Luke replied.

"No way," Lydia told him. "They'll be sugared up enough without Felix's help."

Gideon was obviously enjoying himself, but Anakin thought he looked a bit confused as well. He wondered just what had happened to the boy during his wanderings last night.

"Can we open presents now?" pleaded London.

"Yeah, can we?" gushed Cody.

"As long as you open mine first," Brigham told him, handing him a bulky package.

Cody tore off the paper and screamed in joy. "_Essential Guides to Characters, Vehicles, Alien Species, Droids, Weapons, _and _Planets!_" he exclaimed, flinging his arms around his friend. "Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou…"

"Leggo, Cody," Brigham grunted.

Luke laughed. "I'm glad you two have patched things up."

Soon the family was caught up in passing out and unwrapping gifts. Anakin was pleased to see Gideon immediately become absorbed in the book he'd given the boy, and Opal looked thrilled with her own gift.

"This one's from Brigham," Alzina told Anakin, passing him a square package.

He laughed as he opened the package. "'Knights of the Old Republic,' Brigham?"

"Hey, I thought you'd enjoy it," Brigham replied. "Being a Jedi and all."

"Hey, look what Liberty got me!" Lexus exclaimed, holding up a beautifully embroidered blouse with a phoenix stitched in vivid red and gold across the front.

"It's beautiful," Mrs. Pratt replied. "Did you do that yourself, Liberty?"

She smiled modestly. "I did it during the night, in the dark. I'm afraid it looks better in the dark."

"I'm wearing it to class when school starts again," Lexus declared, pulling the shirt on over her pajamas.

"I got one from her too," Brigham said, holding up a handsome midnight-blue dress shirt with the Salt Lake Temple embroidered in silver. "Very nice, Lib."

"Hey, Anakin got something from her too!" Christopher tossed him the package. "Open it!"

Anakin caught the gift and carefully opened it. "My goodness, Liberty!" he exclaimed, unfolding the black cloak. "If you continue this, you'll go blind!"

"I've been working on yours for some time, actually," she said. "When I drew your name, I knew I had an excuse to give it to you."

He unfolded the cape, which had been meticulously designed with planets, moons, stars, and comets in a gorgeous pattern. "I'm saving this for special occasions," he told her.

"I want him to open mine next!" Emma cried. "Give him mine next!"

"What a refreshing change to hear them begging to let other people open presents first," Clinton noted as the package was passed to Anakin.

"Will it jump out and bite him?" asked Austin jokingly.

Emma practically shook with anticipation as Anakin tore away the paper. Inside, contained in a plastic box, was a Senator Amidala doll.

"Don't you like it?" Emma gushed.

"Sure he likes it," Felix sniggered before Brigham punched his arm to silence him.

"I know you loved her," Emma went on. "I saw it in the movie. And I thought if you could see the doll and think of her, you wouldn't miss her so much."

He blinked rapidly, but even that couldn't stop the tears from escaping. "Thank you very much, Emma," he replied in a voice thick with emotion.

She climbed up in his lap and embraced him around the neck.

"All right, who's the smart alek?" Luke demanded, holding up the Force FX lightsaber someone had given him.

"That would be me," Clinton grinned. "Seeing as Skywalkers are prone to losing their lightsabers, I thought you could use a spare."

"Thanks," Luke replied sarcastically.

Liberty opened a small box that Austin had given her. "Aw gee, how romantic," she said in a very unenthusiastic voice. "He got me a pair of socks."

"Honey, you're always complaining that your feet are cold," Austin protested.

"Maybe he's pointing out that your love life is suffering because of your cold feet in bed – ow!" Cody yelped as Liberty smacked him with the socks. "Geez, that hurt! What's in those things, rocks?"

"Don't ask me," Liberty replied, shaking a sock by its toe. "Ask Casanova over here…"

A tiny black box fell out in her hand. She gasped.

"I know this is long overdue," Austin told her, taking the box from her. "But I thought it would make an appropriate Christmas present." Removing the ring from the box, he slid it onto her finger. "Liberty King, will you marry me?"

The room broke out into applause as she flung her arms around him.

"All I can say is it's about time," Brigham told Anakin over the din.

"Amen," Anakin replied.

_Break…_

The Greyhound bus trundled out of Salt Lake, largely unnoticed. Anakin and the members of the Elite were going back to Star City, back to their mundane (if not entirely normal) lives.

"Well, this was an exciting Christmas, wasn't it?" asked Cody, turning in his seat to talk to Anakin.

Anakin nodded. "We met Brigham's family, Brigham almost broke your nose, Ruth brought home a crime lord who almost destroyed half of Salt Lake City, I demolished a Dairy Queen restaurant, the Elite gained a new member in the form of Brigham's cousin, and Austin finally proposed to Liberty… yes, it was pretty eventful."

Cody looked back on the city. "Pretty place. Think you'll go back?"

"I don't know."

"You're still thinking about Xizor, aren't you?" Cody asked. "Trust me, the guy's getting shipped to Corusant. Fat chance he'll escape."

Anakin shifted to get comfortable in his seat, trying not to disturb Opal, who'd sat beside him to take dictation on his memoir and was now fast asleep. "I'm not worried about his escape."

"Okay, did he say something to you?"

"Trust me, it's not important, Cody. Go to sleep."

"Who needs sleep? I gotta finish these books Brigham gave me."

Anakin chuckled and stared back out the window, lost in thought. Luke had left shortly before they did, and his plane was by now halfway to the New York spaceport. He wondered when he would next see his son again. Hopefully it would not be too long.

**Credits**

None of the Christmas songs in this story are mine – believe me, I can't write songs worth a lick. Because I have no interest in being sued, I'm giving credit to the following writers:

"Frosty the Snowman" – Jack Rollins and Steve Nelson

"Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" – Johnny Marks

"Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" – Stuart Brooks


End file.
